


Against the Edge of the Sky

by sahbeL



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Character Death, Drama, Future Fic, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magic, Panic Attacks, Romance, Witch!Malia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahbeL/pseuds/sahbeL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He and Stiles just didn’t drift in the same orbit these days. Derek could probably count with two hands the number of times he’s seen the younger man in the past four years. And half of those times Stiles hadn’t even seen him back. </p>
<p>And no, he hadn’t really noticed the absence. </p>
<p>Or, the future fic where Stiles has become a BAMF and no one in the pack noticed because he's a sneaky little shit and didn't tell anyone until it ends up blowing up in everyone's faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Few years after S3, slightly AU in the sense that no-one has left (or died). All characters still present and accounted for. Isaac, Alison, the twins, yes. Some AU when it comes to Malia - not a were-coyote - I totally veered off Show, sorry not sorry! Character dynamics have slightly altered – why wouldn’t it change after a few years? – As you’ll see. Scott and Stiles realise how estranged they’ve become with each other beneath the surface of a still-awesome friendship, after spending the past few years more apart than they’ve ever been before. May slightly reflect canon in future chapters, this you’ll have to wait and see. 
> 
> A/N: Beware of the switches in POV. It usually happens every few paragraphs with this -x-, I just hope it’s not too confusing! It’s mostly switches between Stiles and Derek anyway. And maybe one or two POVs from the other characters. Oh, and big blocks of italics mean flashbacks. Lots of dialogue and explanations about magic, and Sciles bro-bonding. And lots of Sterek eye contact and omg, people talking and getting cut off by other people (I’m sorry, lol). Enjoy!

It isn’t like he and Stiles are estranged, Derek is Scott’s second after all. They’re in contact with each other practically every day. Isaac and Allison treat his house like it’s their second home and Kira’s around almost as often Scott is. He sees Lydia and Aiden every time a pack meeting lands on a day that they’re in town and Ethan and Danny probably just as often.  
  
No.  
  
He and Stiles just didn’t drift in the same orbit these days. Derek could probably count with two hands the number of times he’s seen the younger man in the past four years. And half of those times Stiles hadn’t even seen him back.  
  
And no, he hadn’t really noticed the absence.

For one thing, Scott the Alpha aka Best Friend kept the pack pretty well informed on whatever was going on with their pack researcher – whose research never got left undone no matter where he was or what he was doing. And for another, it didn’t really feel like he was a five hour drive away. The constant conference calls, five minute glimpses, and how-you-doin-sourwolfs thrown his way pacified Derek’s instincts every _damn_ time.  
  
But now, as he’s racing through the woods, legs pumping as hard as they possibly can without him actually shifting into full beta-form, Scott’s panicked voice echoes in his head over and over again.  
  
And Derek starts to mentally backtrack.  
  
Sifts through all the times he’s seen Stiles.  
  
Tries to spot the kid’s tells by vague, fondly-tinged memories.  
  
Because Stiles had been hiding something. And it wasn’t an I’m-stealing-your-food type of something - no - this was something big. Something he clearly hadn’t wanted the pack – yes, not even Scott, to know. And Derek may not have the red eyes of the position, but as far as pack dynamics go and the way he and Scott had progressed together, he’s definitely running a good second. So how could he not have seen it?!

How did Stiles – the kid he knew with the frantic, hyper energy, deliverer of many a pain-in-the-ass remarks, carrier of the falsest, smart-assed bravado he’d ever seen – get whatever he’d been hiding all this time, past _Derek?!_  
  
  
“ _Dude, you gotta get here now. I don’t know what to do! He came out of nowhere, I didn’t even see him. Like, literally the air dude, I don’t even – Jesus Christ, he’s not breathing! Derek, what do I do! I don’t–”_  
  
_“—Scott, stay where you are, I’m coming to you. Don’t panic, I’m coming.”_  
  
  
He’d ended the call and had started running as soon as he heard the horror in Scott’s voice.  
  
Something had happened. Something to do with Stiles that had reduced Scott to a frantic, crazy mess.  
  
Derek doesn’t know how a simple case of pixies had turned into this special brand of nasty, but he decides to tackle this situation with a _shoot now ask questions later_ approach. The way he usually did a lot of things, but who’s judging right?  
  
He knows he’s getting close when the barrage of scents hits him in full force.  
  
_Witches._  
  
What the hell?  
  
Twelve or more, judging from the way the hairs on his arms are buzzing. The stench is disgusting, but he knows there’s no immediate danger because if they were still alive the place wouldn’t stink half as bad.  
  
He senses Allison up in the trees and Kira travelling through the thick branches above him to his right. Their scents are like familiar touches to his shoulder. He tracks Isaac coming in on his left and Ethan and Aiden running perimeter.  
  
It only takes a second for Derek to put together the fact that he’d just missed a damn good fight. The bark of the trees around him are lightly toasted. Not enough to be burnt black, but definitely a little crispy. There’s a fizzing in the air that he can’t figure out, and just as he’s about to shoot Isaac a questioning glance as the younger pup sidles up beside him, Derek clears the forest, bursts out of the wall of trees and into a small clearing.  
  
The moon detaches itself from the clouds (not that Derek needs its light) and everything turns into slow motion as all sound seems to get muted in Derek’s ears. He makes out the line of Scott’s back hunched over a prone figure. The young alpha is desperately performing compressions, but Derek can’t see through Scott’s back, and he never really takes anything to heart until he has a chance to see the evidence. The back of his mind takes a second to question where this deep feeling of dread is suddenly stemming from, but he quickly dismisses it for another time. He makes out the outstretched, jean-clad legs, feet wearing some hastily pulled on sneakers with their laces still untied. Lydia is kneeling on the other side of the prone form. She’s got a good hard grip on his wrist, waiting and watching for Scott’s signal to give him another breath.  
  
Derek watches Isaac rush over and drop a hard hand onto Scott’s shoulder.  
  
“Easy, you’ll break his ribs.”  
  
Isaac’s voice seems to snap his brain back into normal speed and Derek strides forward the rest of the way and lays eyes on Stiles for the first time in at least three months. He takes in the tousled brown hair, pale skin and too blue lips.  
  
“How long has he been out?” He asks as he drops to his knees beside Scott, gently nudges the frantic alpha aside and takes over compressions.  
  
“T-two minutes…or so. I-Derek, he-it was like…”  
  
Derek shifts his eyes to Scott and takes in the stunned, speechless look on his face. “What? Spit it out. What the hell happened?”  
  
Isaac shakes his head from where he stands behind Scott and as Derek turns his head he sees that Lydia has the same stunned expression.  
  
“30, go!” His voice snaps the strawberry-blonde into motion and she drops Stiles’ wrist, grabs his face in her hands and gives him two long, strong breaths.  
  
Stiles’ chest rises and falls but doesn’t continue to do so on its own. Derek growls in frustration and resumes compressions.  
  
“What the hell is he even doing here, shouldn’t he be in _class_ or something?!”  
  
_12, 13, 14, 15…_  
  
Scott seems to have regained some of his control as he waves an arm out around him in frustration.  
  
“Dude, that’s what I’m saying! He’s not even supposed to be here! He literally _appeared out of the air, Derek._ We were all in trouble and then he was just—”

“— Go!” Derek snaps at Lydia. She immediately obeys and blows another two big breaths into Stiles’ mouth.  
  
Derek watches as Stiles’ chest expands. Stares at it so hard he thinks he could set the kid (yes, _kid_ ) on fire with just his will, and when his chest deflates with the second exhale and doesn’t rise again Derek lets out a frustrated snarl and resumes compressions _._  
  
“What do you mean the ‘air’?!” He looks around him at the others. At Allison and Kira approaching them at a jog. At Isaac and Lydia’s still stunned expressions. “Do you know what he’s talking about? What Stiles did?”  
  
Lydia’s wide eyes meet his and her head bobs in a single nod. “There was nothing there and then _he_ was. We all saw it.”  
  
“That’s not everything,” Scott mumbles as Derek reaches his thirtieth compression. He’s about to snap at Lydia, but she’s already cupping Stiles’ pale face and giving him another two breaths.  
  
They all inhale with Stiles’ second simulated breath and Derek feels the air around them freeze as they all wait.  
  
It seems like forever, but the CPR finally seems to jumpstart Stiles’ heart because the younger man’s throat works a little, before he inhales a stuttered, choking breath.  
  
Derek feels everyone around him exhale collectively as Stiles sucks in another desperate breath. His arms lift a little and then fall limp again.  
  
Scott drops a heavy hand onto his friend’s shoulder, _hey, you’re okay. We’re here, you’re okay,_ as Stiles’ eyes flutter open into dazed slits. Derek frowns at the way his hair is sticking up funny in some places, like he just stuck his finger into an electric socket. He doesn’t expect the force of Stiles’ hazel gaze as it gets directed at him. Doesn’t expect the muted, hazy expression that greets him. Stiles’ pupils are blown wide and he looks completely out of it.  
  
“Stiles?” Derek blurts out.  
  
The younger man is breathing through his nose in short shallow bursts like he just finished a marathon. Out of the corner of his eye Derek sees Scott squeeze his friend’s shoulder, but Derek doesn’t break Stiles’ stare. He’s about to ask where it hurts when Stiles blinks once, twice. His eyelids drop halfway like he’s fighting to stay awake, but he seems to lose the battle on his third blink when his eyes close and stay that way.  
  
For a second Derek feels something like fear clutch his heart. His body lunges forward of its own volition before his ears even start to register the faint heartbeat that had been absent a minute ago.  
  
“He’s out,” Lydia murmurs, expression dazed.  
  
“Guys, can we figure this out later?” Aiden asks just as he walks out of the tree line with Ethan trailing him silently. “Those witches have friends and Stiles just made them angry.”  
  
“He’s right, we need to go,” Kira murmurs. She moves forward to place a hand on Scott’s shoulder who is still on his knees with his hand on Stiles like he’s afraid to let go. There’s a look in his eyes that’s half frantic and half terrified and Derek feels his brow scrunch with sympathy.  
  
Wordlessly, he wraps strong fingers around Scott’s wrist and squeezes lightly in reassurance. “I got him.”  
  
Scott meets his gaze and there’s a trust in his expression that Derek thought would never be directed at him. The alpha releases the death grip he’s got on his best friend’s t-shirt and rises to his feet.  
  
Derek doesn’t acknowledge the over-cautious way he eases Stiles into his arms. He brushes away Lydia’s murmured _careful,_ and hoists Stiles up to his chest without the least bit of struggle. Did he not eat _anything_ these days?  
  
Ethan and Aiden are flanking the group _in case more trouble comes along,_ and Kira and Allison walk with their weapons drawn.  
  
It seems like just another mission successfully accomplished, but the thought is quickly scratched out by the presence of the body passed out cold in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been years since they all decided to be okay with being pack and everything’s been okay so far, until all of a sudden, it’s not. Because there’s a new kind of supernatural in town, and the whole pack – more like, Derek – is taken by surprise by how oblivious they’ve been about Stiles, and how much change this trial will bring.

They recon at his house.  
  
Like they always do.  
  
It’s a new place. Built where the old place used to stand. Derek started planning it right after he realised he needed spare bedrooms for all of them, especially because Scott was still studying Vet Science and preferred to live in a pig sty instead of an actual home.  
  
Isaac and Allison are the last to arrive and they trudge through the door slowly with Isaac closing the front door behind him.  
  
Stiles doesn’t usually spend nights at his place, and when he does he usually just takes the couch, or crashes in Scott’s bed, or his Dad’s place. But it’s a full house tonight and Derek’s definitely not dumping an unconscious-previously-dead Stiles on the couch, no matter how comfortable it is.  
  
-x-  
  
_“You know the study upstairs could easily be turned into your room, right?” Derek offers. No-one can ever say he never put it out there once or five times._  
  
_Stiles is almost all the way asleep, sprawled on his stomach on the couch like he owns it._  
  
_“I’m good, dude,” He drawls._  
  
_Derek takes in the long fingers trailing the carpet, raises an eyebrow at the snuffle that leaves Stiles’ mouth. He grabs a throw from the back of the armchair to his left and pegs it at the kid. Stiles flails an arm out to catch it and half shakes the throw over himself._  
  
_“See you in the morning,” Derek throws over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs._  
  
_It’s not loud enough for human ears, but Stiles has known long enough that he never really needs to raise his voice very much around werewolves._  
  
_“Thanks, Sourwolf.”_

-x- _  
  
_ Deaton informs them that Stiles will be unconscious for at least another few hours. Something _(or a bunch of witches)_ sucked pretty much all the life out of him, hard enough and fast enough to stop Stiles’ heart.  
  
Derek watches as Scott fields every question Deaton throws at him. He’s known Scott long enough now to know that the alpha wasn’t about to tell Deaton anything until he got Stiles’ explanation to what happened in that clearing.

It’s Derek, Deaton and Scott gathered around Derek’s bed with Stiles resting peacefully under the covers. It unnerves him, the way the kid is lying so straight and still. He’s seen Stiles sleep enough times to know that there should be awkward limbs and light snuffles instead of this motionless coma.  
  
“Give this to him when he wakes up, it should help,” Deaton hands Scott a vial of orange liquid as they head towards the door. “If he doesn’t wake up by tomorrow, give me a call.”  
  
Derek steps aside to let them pass.  
  
He’s still standing by his bedroom door with his arms crossed over his chest when Scott returns and stops beside him.  
  
They’ve been through enough screaming matches in the last couple of years to know that the best way for Derek to acquire need-to-know information is if he didn’t push, and Scott isn’t pressured. During Stiles’ first year away, Derek had more than had his fair share of jumbled sentences and half-remembered recaps. Scott needed time to process and calibrate before relaying. Without Stiles’ constant presence and not being able to pick up phone calls all the time, or answer emails every second of every day, Scott had had to readjust to (sometimes) using his own brain as his soundboard.  
  
So Derek takes in a quiet breath and waits.  
  
“All the research and evidence told us it was pixies,” the young alpha begins.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“We weren’t ready for them.”  
  
“I know,” he replies again.  
  
“It was a trap.”  
  
“It’s certainly starting to look that way,” Derek agrees. _Now tell me how Stiles ended up in the picture.  
  
_ “We got past the forest and there were pixie dust trails everywhere. They led to all different directions so we fanned out. Allison and Kira, the twins, and me and Isaac. One second we were hunting and then the next, I felt–,” Scott shakes his head trying to find the right words. “They were in the trees, in the shadows, chanting. I could feel little pinpricks, like…electric shocks snapping at me. At first they were just annoying, but then they started to get stronger and more painful. Isaac started yelping and I could feel all of us being _herded…_ ”  
  
Derek’s frowning so hard he can’t feel his forehead. He realises he’s glaring intently at Scott and makes a conscious decision to relax his brow.  
  
“It was so easy for them to drive us into that clearing. I had no control over my body. They were strong, Derek,” Scott looks him in the eye as he says this. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. The ground was shaking, the wind—came out of nowhere -- and it was like there was something…pulling at me. Like, on the inside. I can’t explain it. I wanted to move but I couldn’t. I couldn’t turn my head, all I could see from the corner of my eye was Isaac’s face starting to turn blue because of some invisible force around his throat, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even scream.”

Derek can sense the others listening in on their conversation – those with supernatural hearing anyway – and he doesn’t like the way Isaac and the twins don’t interrupt to say Scott’s got it wrong. Doesn’t like how they’re listening to this whole thing without butting in.  
  
“I had my eyes open when it started and they were totally alpha’d out, I couldn’t shift them back. And then, one of them came up to me until she was right in front of me, but no matter what I did I couldn’t smell anything of her – I didn’t pick up anything. It was like they’d found a way to block their scent.”  
  
-x-  
  
_Scott committed everything he could see of her to memory. It was easier to hunt creatures down when he remembered what they looked like. And he would definitely take this bitch down – right after he and the pack got out of this mess._  
  
_He takes in her black eyes as she leans into him, almost touching the tip of his nose with her own._  
  
_“Brave alpha,” she drawls softly. All he can do is watch as she raises a finger and strokes it down the left side of his face, temple to chin. “Such beautiful red eyes you have.”_  
  
_The wind swirls around them like a hurricane and he tries to turn his head but fails. Instead, he keeps his senses honed in on the other five members of his pack._  
  
_“Don’t bother,” she says, watching him struggle. “You’re all frozen unless my coven and I let you go. And we won’t be doing that any time soon. Your pack is filled with blood.”_  
  
_Scott hides his alarm at the mention of blood. Knows better than to show anxiety and fear at the face of what’s starting to look like imminent death._  
  
_He’s just about to try to reply when the witches start to hum a deep-throated sound. Isaac shifts beside him and starts to move forward. His movements are awkward and jerky and Scott realises that his steps are against his will._  
  
_“Invenies potestas in de sanguis de lupus,” the witches murmur._  
  
_Isaac gives a surprised yelp, sounding a lot like the pup he always denies he is, and continues to stagger awkwardly towards the tree line. Another witch is in front of him, mirroring his every step, her eyes focused on his face as she walks backwards without hesitation, mouth moving along with the chanting around them._

 _Scott tries to yell, scream, anything. But again – nothing.  
  
_ -x-  
  
“I seriously thought we were done for, I didn’t know what to do. And then all of sudden Stiles was there. Completely out of the air – no don’t look at me like that, Derek, I know what I saw, what we _all_ saw. He appeared out of thin air and called to the one standing in front of me. She turned away from me and I don’t know how, but none of us could hear the rest of what he was saying to her. He didn’t look at us once, it was like he was…possessed.”  
  
Scott pauses for a second and glances towards the bed. They both lay eyes on a still unconscious Stiles, but Scott grabs his arm anyway, leads him out of the room and pauses in the hallway - out of human earshot.  
  
“I’ve watched that mouth talk my ear off my whole life, Derek. I saw when he told her to let us go. He said something about them not knowing what they were up against. She shook her head and raised her hands towards him. A red ball of light shot out of her hands, and I was freaking out dude because I thought it was going to kill him, but, Stiles—h-he, he _caught it._ He _caught_ it, Derek. He held it in his hands like a soccer ball. He made it grow until it was as big as a satellite dish, and then he heaved it up and slammed it into the ground. There was a bright light that exploded all around us, and there was a roaring sound, and the wind was–it was like a hurricane.”  
  
Scott’s words were running together so quickly that Derek had to concentrate to keep up. The alpha was so worked up that he spoke in short, quick bursts like he just couldn’t wait to get what he saw out of his head.  
  
“Stiles must’ve done something to lift the spell because I was able to move my arms and shield my eyes from the light. The wind went away but the light stayed, then I think I grabbed for Kira behind me…and then I could hear _them_ screaming. All of them. Like they were being burned alive.” Scott is staring blankly at a spot on the floor between them, eyes glazed over and lost in the memory.

“Someone grabbed my shoulder from behind, and when I turned around I could just make out Lydia running out of the trees, and then _she_ was screaming too.”  
  
Scott takes a breath and Derek can hear his heartbeat hammering away a hard, pounding beat.  
  
“The light went away, and I see Isaac looking around him. And then suddenly Stiles was in front of us. He was breathing really hard like he was having a panic attack and,” Scott shook his head, struggling to find the words. “There was…something different about his eyes. Some sort of, I don’t know, pin? of…light? I—” Scott shakes his head helplessly. “He asked if we were okay, and then I saw his eyes go back to normal and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. And that’s when I called you. And, you know the rest.”  
  
-x-  
  
_He walks into his kitchen and sees broad shoulders covered by a plaid shirt. Stiles is busy stirring some sort of soup on his stove and he wonders when his house had become such a communal area for the pack. And since when had Stiles started to fill out those plaid shirts?_ _  
  
“That stuff better be able to kill a kelpie or you’ve got no reason to be in my kitchen,” Derek says. He’s surprised by the lack of animosity in his tone but doesn’t pause to question it too deeply.  
  
He hears rather than sees the small smirk. “Not even if it’s good enough to feed a nasty wolf like you?”  
  
Derek’s close enough to the bar now that it seems only natural to take a stool by its back, flip it around, and straddle it.  
  
“Since when did you cook?” He asks, ignoring the friendly barb from the younger man.  
  
Stiles finally turns an easy, hazel gaze at him as he continues to stir. “College’ll do that to a person. It doesn’t take long for pizza pockets and toast to start tasting like cardboard.”  
  
Derek just raises an eyebrow.  
  
“These, though…” Stiles continues, pulling vials full of green stuff out of his back and front pockets and lining them up on the bar between them as he speaks. “These _ will _kill kelpies. Just aim and throw.”_  
  
_Derek’s lips move with an almost impressed twitch. He’s about to say something about his almost-impressed reaction when Stiles speaks again._  
  
_“But first, food. Food is_ good _.”_  
  
-x-  
  
The clock ticks over to 4AM.  
  
It takes him at least an hour after Scott finishes his story to finally get Kira to coax their alpha to get some sleep with a promise to wake him if there’s any change.  
  
He doesn’t appreciate the seemingly too-long pauses between the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest. Doesn’t like the blue tinge still staining the edges of Stiles’ mouth as well, but it’s definitely better than the previously ashen hue to his skin hours earlier.  
  
Derek’s about to resign himself to another hour in the armchair by his own bed when he notices a twitch in the middle finger of the hand he’s been glaring at for the past ten minutes. He almost cracks his neck by how fast he turns to look at Stiles’ face. They’re no larger than narrow slits, but Stiles’ eyes are open and blinking at him calmly.  
  
“Doesn’t your face ever hurt from glaring like that all the time?” Stiles slurs. Derek’s eyebrows creep even closer together as he watches Stiles lift a hand up to his own forehead.  
  
-x-  
  
“I’m fine,” he continues, as he rubs the spot above his left brow. Stiles ignores the pounding in his temples and tries for a demeanour that would cause less worry. It’s just his luck to wake up when it’s Derek’s turn to watch him.  
  
Said wolf continues to glare at him. He watches as Derek leans forward and looks him right in the eye.  
  
“You know I can tell when people lie, right?”  
  
Stiles looks away from Derek’s discerning gaze and tries for sarcasm. “Um, hello? Sidekick of the true alpha here, remember? So, duh.”  
  
He senses Derek brush his sarcasm off with a frustrated shake of his head.  
  
“Don’t do that,” he says as he raises a finger and points it at Stiles’ face. “You can’t bullshit your way out of this one, Stiles. They all saw whatever the hell you did today, and I’m not Scott or Lydia or Isaac, I’m not gonna hang back and wait for you to make up some story. You tell me right now what the hell you’ve been hiding, and how you did what you did.”  
  
“I—”  
  
“—Don’t.” Derek warns again, eyes boring holes into his skull as Stiles focuses on anything but Derek’s face.    
  
For a brief moment he wonders if Derek is thinking about the last time, with the nogitsune. He wonders if the others are just waiting around the corner for some hidden signal before they jump him. Wonders if they’ve already talked about him behind his back while he was out cold.

Maybe that’s why Derek’s the one by his bedside. Because he would be the right choice. Cold and calculating, Derek would be able to do things the others couldn’t bring themselves to.  
  
“Stop that!” Derek snarls with a flash of his wolf eyes and startling Stiles out of his inner monologue. He’s surprised at how well Derek is reading him considering how little they’ve seen each other the past few years.  
  
“I didn’t—” he blurts.  
  
“We don’t think you’re possessed, dumbass,” Derek snaps.  
  
Stiles doesn’t even bother feigning ignorance. “How did you even—”  
  
“I’m not blind, Stiles. And you, you—don’t ever play poker with that stupid face.”  
  
“Oh my god, we’re just full of insults-for-Stiles today aren’t we? Did I just not die earlier or…?”  
  
“Yeah, speaking of earlier. You still haven’t answered my question.”  
  
“What question? It wasn’t a question.” Stiles replies smugly. He knows he’s being an evasive jackass but he just needs some more time, _dammit!_ How exactly was he supposed to explain – to Derek, of all people – what he’s been doing in college all this time aside from acquiring a degree in Occult Science and Mythology?  
  
Derek’s eyes sharpen even further, and the finger he’s still pointing with is almost touching Stiles’ nose as he cuts off whatever Stiles is about to blurt out with another abrupt _don’t!,_ with the _even think about it_ tacked on right after in the silence that follows.  
  
Like a big, fat, sourwolf-sized exclamation mark.  
  
-x-  
  
He sees the wheels in Stiles’ head turning. There’s a quiet hesitance in his gaze that Derek has never seen before. From all the years they’ve known each other, Stiles had always been all kinds of impulsive, almost to the point of careless. But this time, Derek can almost see the pause in him. The hesitance.  
  
Stiles opens his mouth again but Derek cuts him off. Again.  
  
“Don’t lie,” but the threat in his voice is gone.  
  
He doesn’t know why it’s suddenly so important that Stiles not lie to him. This moment shouldn’t feel like anything different, but for some reason it does, and he knows that whatever comes out of Stiles’ mouth in the next moment will probably shape everything else that comes after it between them.  
  
Stiles snaps his mouth shut. His eyes slide away from Derek’s for a second before shifting back to meet his gaze.  
  
“I’m…I’m bullshit at it most times,” Stiles’ eyes wander away and then back again and Derek’s intrigued by this uncertainty that he’s never seen before. “Sometimes I can’t even get it to work properly, but I’ve been dabbling. And there’s people at school that I know who’ve been teaching me, and they say I can help people, that it’s strong in me. I just—I’m learning. I’ve _been_ learning for a while now…and when I found out that you guys weren’t about to face pixies, I panicked. There was no time to—I panicked.”  
  
It has occurred to Derek on numerous occasions that he’s probably spent at least half of the time he’s known Scott and Stiles trying to decipher the stilted gibberish that pours out of their mouths, but Derek thinks he’s gotten quite good at it, considering. Most times he just replies with a confused sigh and a frustrated—  
  
“—what?”  
  
Stiles looks almost bashful as he murmurs quietly, “The spark. M-my spark. I’ve been…dabbling.”  
  
His hand lifts slightly and Derek’s eyes widen as thin, golden tendrils of light start to sliver around Stiles’ long slender fingers as he wriggles them softly. Derek doesn’t know whether to smack the offending limb away or be careful with it. Hasn’t had to deal with a kid who’s been meddling with magic before.  
  
“Stiles…” he murmurs warningly as he backs off a little.  
  
Stiles looks at him with a half worried, half guilty expression.  
  
“It’s just a parlour trick,” he assures dejectedly, “something about manipulating the particles in the air and bending light. It won’t do you any harm, I swear. I told you I’m mostly not that good.”  
  
Derek’s still staring open mouthed at the swirling, glittering ribbons of light when Stiles suddenly shoves his hand towards him and wriggles his fingers frantically.

“You wanna touch it?” he asks with a sneaky grin.  
  
Derek’s shock is washed away by the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. Before he can say anything there’s a muffled thud from the other side of the house followed by the sound of smothered giggles, and he wonders how that last part must have sounded without the aid of visuals to someone just tuning in.  
  
Scott’s _ewwwwww, dudes, gross!_ is enough to make Derek clamber to his feet and rush to the doorway to rectify the situation.  
  
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, it’s NOT!” he yells into the empty hallway.  
  
Stiles is snickering into his pillow in the background as Lydia’s voice reaches him from another side of the house.  
  
“It is 4AM in the morning and I am not getting any beauty sleep. You all better shut up, and Stiles, I will cut _off_ those fingers!”  
  
Derek turns to Stiles with a questioning look and the kid just shrugs with his reply. “She tried to surprise me on campus one time and caught me trying to set things on fire.”  
  
Derek feels his surprise fading away with the end of Stiles’ casual words.  
  
“She’s right, it’s 4AM,” he takes the potion Deaton left for Stiles from the bedside table and hands it to the kid.  
  
“Oh, uh-uh,” Stiles murmurs with a shake of his head. “I don’t do miscellaneous potions anymore.”  
  
Derek sighs. “It’s from Deaton, it’s supposed to get rid of any residual spell marks or…whatever.”  
  
He watches quietly as Stiles takes the little bottle from him and sniffs. He cringes but brings it to his mouth and downs the concoction all in one go. Derek stays by the door and resists the urge to tuck Stiles in. _Really?_  
  
He turns away from the kid and grabs the door handle.  
  
“Get some rest because we’re gonna have a really big conversation tomorrow,” he throws over his shoulder without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N/A: Nice change of pace in this chapter for you guys, I hope? Thought I'd post another one before the weekend ends. Thanks for everyone who left me lovely comments! What did you guys think of the flashbacks? Also, I'm not used to writing big chunks of dialogue so forgive me if it sounds a little awkward, haha. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is pretty slow compared to the others - I just wanted to show how everyone interacts with each other these days. Lots of 'morning routine' stuff, happy, happy pack <3

It’s not his most favourite thing to do, but habit has Stiles rising with the sun. He sighs as he sits up and sticks his thumbs back into the thumbholes on his shirtsleeves. In the past few years he’s found that the jitteriness he’s had in his hands and body his whole life fades out a lot after he’s been using.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders a couple of times. Belatedly he realises that the panicked sigil* jump from yesterday meant he didn’t have his car with him. Or his wallet. Or money. Or a spare change of clothes.

Stiles sighs again, the now familiar feeling of exasperation with himself making his shoulders hunch as he murmurs a frustrated _useless._ Mentally he does a once over, glad to discover that nothing hurt. Next, he gives himself a mandatory pat down and smiles with relief when he discovers his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.  
  
_Not completely useless._  
  
The half charge he sees broadens the smile on his face.

Deftly, he speed dial’s 3.  
  
-x-  
  
Derek hadn’t bothered trying to sleep after ordering Stiles to do the same. He gets through a few chapters of _Inferno_ before it’s almost 6AM and he’s antsy and twitchy. He decides to go for a run and is almost to his room to grab some clothes before he realises that the risk of waking Stiles after yesterday’s ordeal isn’t the best idea.  
  
He’s paused in the hallway half deciding to go back downstairs when he hears the muffled _hey.  
  
_ Half a second of wondering if Stiles somehow knew he was out in the hallway passes, before Stiles speaks again and Derek realises that there was no point in worrying about waking the kid in the first place.  
  
_“I told them. I mean, I had to after, well – Jesus, you think?! I pulled the speech out of my ass! …Yeah – no – I couldn’t—it was Derek …yes. Look, can you come get me? I didn’t exactly jump my car over – I know – yeah, Malia, stop. I know.”  
  
_ Derek holds his breath as he hears Stiles sigh on the other side of the wall.  
  
_“Well, I’m about to find out. Ahuh – yeah, ah-huh. Thanks.”_  
  
Derek doesn’t wait to hear Stiles hang up the phone before heading back downstairs.

-x-  
  
He’s got bacon and eggs cooking by the time Stiles meanders into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, untied shoelaces swishing carelessly against the floor.  
  
“I love breakfast food,” he says.  
  
Derek watches him out of the corner of his eye as he replies. “And good morning to you too. How are you feeling?”  
  
Stiles takes a seat at the bar and leans forward on his elbows. “I’m good, dude. Whatever was in that potion Deaton left me must’ve had some awesome stuff.”  
  
Derek shifts the bacon and eggs onto a plate and tosses more strips into the pan. He takes advantage of the lack of other pack members to reacquaint himself with Stiles’ scent. He’s familiar with the usual cinnamon and innocence, but there’s a new, _stormy,_ undercurrent that he can’t quite place. He’s got half an eye on the bacon as he catalogues the similarities and the differences in Stiles – mostly the differences. He’s left his hair longish and some of the brown locks almost touch his brows. There’s a surprising absence of flannel as he notes the kid’s plain black long sleeve stretched all the way out over his thumbs.  
  
Derek absently shifts more bacon onto the heaping plate beside the stove. It takes him a while to notice but finally he spots the biggest difference. Stiles is _still._ His usually twitchy fingers are motionless. There’s no continuous bounce in his leg, and Stiles is _quietly_ sitting on the bar stool watching him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.  
  
Derek lets go of the pan and switches off the stove without taking his eyes off Stiles.  
  
“You’re different,” he declares, tone even.  
  
The closer the pack had grown throughout the years, the less need there had been for scent marking in the _hey, I haven’t seen you in forever, I need to make you smell like pack again,_ kind of way - but all of a sudden Derek finds himself stepping forward, eyes narrowing as he tunes all his senses in on Stiles, whose mouth forms a casually sheepish “O” as he nods slowly.  
  
-x-  
  
Derek’s eyes are blue and bright, and Stiles expected a confrontation, but nothing quite like this. He reminds himself not to make any sudden movements as Derek takes another step forward, narrowed, glowing eyes never leaving his face.  
  
“Oh-kay,” he drawls without any feelings of anxiety. He likes to think he stopped fearing Derek’s aggressive nature years ago now. “You go ahead and you do what you gotta do, buddy. I’ll just sit right here.”  
  
Derek responds with a soft growl under his breath. Stiles watches him round the bar and move towards where he’s seated. He knows better than to make eye contact and instead he moves his head slightly to the side and bares his neck for Derek’s nose.  
  
Stiles hasn’t really had a chance to discuss with Scott or any of the others if he smelled any different, but if Derek’s reaction is any indication, he figures that maybe his now active spark is giving off a little somethin’-somethin’ of its own that has now managed to raise Derek’s hackles.

So, he smelled different. That answers _that_ question.

Goose pimples rise along the back of his neck as Derek leans in close enough to sniff him. Stiles suppresses the urge to shiver and gazes lazily at a strip of bacon as he waits for Derek to get a reign on his wolf.    
  
Derek moves around him, nose nuzzling his temple and the tips of his hair. Stiles lets himself be nudged, gives off a small, huffed laugh at a particularly rough prod from Derek. Lets Scott’s beta burrow into the space under his ear for as long as he wants to – because this is normal now.  
  
-x-  
  
_The pole holding them all together is solid, dammit. He could feel Kira and Lydia struggling with their bonds behind him. Could feel the skin on his wrists becoming raw from his own straining.  
  
“They’re coming, I know it,” Kira murmurs distractedly. He doesn’t know if she means the wendigos saving them for dinner or Scott and the rest of the pack.  
  
“I don’t feel like screaming,” Lydia counters just as distractedly. _ Good, _Stiles mentally replies, it means nobody’s dying today._  
  
_The three of them stop suddenly as they hear footsteps in the hallway. He hears one of the girls’ breaths hitch and Stiles is about to renew his struggle to get loose when Scott bursts through the door eyes glowing red and teeth bared._  
  
_“Scott!” Kira cries with relief._  
  
_Derek barrels in right behind Scott, followed by the twins, Isaac and Allison._  
  
_“You guys okay?” Scott growls with his shifted vocal chords as he moves toward them._  
  
_Stiles rears back in surprise as he watches Scott try to reach for the three of them all at the same time, like he couldn’t decide which one to grab first. Their alpha’s hands are everywhere, ghosting over Stiles’ shoulders and Kira’s hair and the back of Lydia’s neck._  
  
_“Dude, what—” Stiles mumbles in confusion as he tries to shake Scott’s right hand off his face. He just knows that this is going to be something to laugh about later._  
  
_“Oh my god, Aiden!” Lydia’s startled exclamation is followed by a muffled snuffle. He hears Kira giggle from beside him and frowns as he watches Scott nuzzle a nose into her neck._  
  
_“Let them,” his head snaps to the front as Derek crouches down in front of him, eyes still blue and glowing but definitely much more in control than the bitten-wolves around them._

 _“You’ve been missing for 48 hours, they were worried. Let them,” Derek says again. And realisation dawns over Stiles as all the reading he’s done about wolves and scenting helps him finally figure out what’s going on.  
  
“Oh. _ Oh!” _Derek meets his gaze with an apologetic one of his own._  


_“Oh, you-you go ahead and do what you gotta do, buddy. I’ll just sit right here.”_  
  
_Derek lets out a small huff and reaches arms around him to undo his bonds. And Stiles…well, Stiles tries not to make a big deal about how Derek just happened to crouch in front of him first, or the following feeling of Derek nosing lightly into the crook of his neck and taking a long, deep breath._  
  
-x-

“First thing in the morning? Really?” Lydia’s voice ghosts into Stiles’ brain and the bacon he’s been staring at slides back into focus as he hears Derek reply to his friend.  
  
“It’s not like that and you know it,” he murmurs, as Stiles feels him casually pull back from his neck. He doesn’t quite recall when they stopped being bothered by the teasing, when _Derek_ stopped being _really_ bothered, but Stiles has found that it took less energy to let the teasing pass over him than protesting it every time. And with studying, and ‘dabbling’, and the ever occasional supernatural episodes filling their lives, it’s not surprising that the random ribbing from one pack member to the other was more a comfort than anything else.    
  
Lydia replies with a noncommittal shrug and sidles up beside Stiles. Her gaze narrows in mild annoyance as she notices the empty space between his hands on the bar in front of him.  
  
“I would’ve thought you’d have coffee ready by now,” she pouts teasingly, as she slips around them both and starts fiddling with Derek’s Nespresso machine.  
  
Before he can muster up an appropriate reply, Scott and Kira amble their way into the kitchen. Scott’s hair is still sticking out at odd angles but Kira’s all dressed and ready for the day.

They haven’t greeted each other _good morning_ since they were three, but the true alpha slips a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it tight in an _I’m-so-glad-you’re-not-dead_ kind of way, and Stiles lifts said shoulder in a half shrug of acknowledgement. Kira shoots him an affectionate smile as she continues over to Lydia still working the Nespresso.  
  
Derek’s back at the stove now, frying eggs this time, as Scott slides into the barstool beside him and bumps his shoulder again. This time it’s accompanied with a look on his face. The, _I-can’t-believe-you’ve-been-hiding-things-from-me,_ look. Stiles has enough conscience to look sheepish.  
  
_I’m sorry,_ he says with his eyes, and Scott rolls his own in exasperation.  
  
“Can we not forget that not all of us grew up together here?” Isaac butts in from behind them, playfully shoving his head between Stiles and Scott.  
  
Scott snorts and hooks an arm around Isaac’s neck and rubs his knuckles enthusiastically into the pup’s unruly hair.  
  
Stiles feels more than sees Allison approach his other side.

“Glad you’re okay, Stiles,” she murmurs, planting a soft kiss against his cheek. He smiles at her as Lydia slides a mug of coffee in front of him. He recognises the look she has on her face. The cautious watchfulness that she always wears after seeing him pull a particularly hard spell. He always tries to play down the level of magic Malia makes him practice, mostly because he really wasn’t that _good at it,_ and it hardly ever worked - and also to avoid disappointment. But sometimes he wonders if Lydia thinks more of his spark than it really is.  
  
“And he’s alive!” Aiden declares from the kitchen doorway, Ethan and Danny silently trailing in behind him with small smiles on their faces.  
  
Now that everyone was present and accounted for, Stiles straightens in his seat and takes a deep breath. He’d known this moment was long overdue and the last thing he wanted was for the pack to think he was some kind of demon, warlock, crazy - whatever.  
  
“Okay guys, I know you all heard - or were duly informed - of what I said last night,” he starts, watching Ethan cross his arms and lean back against the dining table and Aiden briefly lay a hand against Lydia’s back before sidling away towards the bacon.  
  
He sees Lydia shoot him a look from beneath her lashes and take her bottom lip between her teeth as she cradles her coffee mug with her hands.  
  
“But, like I said, I’m mostly just really bad at it! What you saw yesterday was a complete and total fluke - probably from the panic of thinking that you all could have _died_ if I didn’t do something.”  
  
There’s a flurry of movement as Scott whirls on him with an angry frown on his face, “but Stiles _you_ died. Can we not forget _that_ little part of this ‘fluke’ you’re talking about? What you did yesterday literally killed you!”  
  
_And this is why his best friend hasn’t said a word to him until right at that moment.  
  
_ “Okay, you’re angry,” Stiles acknowledges in a calming voice. Again, he expected a confrontation but nothing quite like this.  
  
“I told you,” Lydia singsongs from somewhere on the other side of the kitchen.  
  
Out of all the scenarios that had played out in his head, none of them had ever consisted of the pack being angry at him for studying magic because it was dangerous. Them thinking he was a freak of nature had been a scenario he’d quickly scrapped – for obvious reasons. Mostly, he’d been terrified of them seeing him fail. Of them thinking that this was an evil thing inside him. Of their rejection. Of them thinking he was _possessed_ because _since when did human-Stiles become magic?_  
  
Well, he’s not anyway, because this spark of his was mostly useless except when it wanted to work.  
  
“Okay, dude, listen. I know I took you by surprise, I mean, obviously you didn’t expect me to materialise out of thin air and set fire to all the baddies and then die right in front of you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t actually know that was going to happen either,” he babbled. “But you guys brought me back, right?! I mean, you came through for me, and I came through for you. I mean, you have no idea how it feels to actually be able to scratch your back for the first time in a while now…”  
  
“—Stiles, you’re missing the point!” Scott exclaims incredulously as he shoves his stool back and storms out of the room.  
  
“I told you,” Lydia singsongs again. Stiles deflates in his seat and turns an irritated look at his previous crush of so many years.

-x-

 **Glossary**  
  
Sigil (n.) - a symbol used in magic


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about the brotp <3 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos everyone! I appreciate them so much, especially having been out of the writing game for so long and having writers block since 2005 lol. Happy reading!

He follows Scott into the hall and hears his friend sigh.  
  
“I can’t even be properly mad at you for hiding this from me,” Scott exclaims. He stands with his fists on his hips with his back to Stiles. Stiles refrains from replying, waiting for Scott to continue. He doesn’t jump when Scott whirls on him for the second time in ten minutes.  
  
“You scared the shit out of me, dude!”  
  
And he gets it, he really does. They hardly ever commission him to be at the front line with everyone else, but Stiles has spent plenty of time having the shit scared out of him by everyone else. So yeah, he gets it now. Scott hasn’t had as much experience worrying about him as Stiles has had freaking out about Scott – or everyone else for that matter.  
  
“Okay,” he murmurs with his arms up in a placating gesture. He shifts his feet beneath him and notices a slight twitch in his fingers. All telltale signs that his magic’s not so depleted anymore. “I really didn’t know that would happen, dude, I promise,” he continues.  
  
He knows everyone in the kitchen is either tuned in or relaying their conversation to the supernatural-hearing impaired, and he probably should be embarrassed, but secrecy from each other hasn’t been a thing for their pack since Allison and Isaac openly got together in front of Kira and Scott. And _that_ had been the most awkward of awkward.  
  
Scott studies his face with the focus of an alpha and Stiles wonders how exactly he’d missed this part of his best friend growing into himself all these years.  
  
“We should’ve picked the same college,” Scott murmurs pensively as they continue to stare at each other. Stiles knows that they’re both doing The Cataloguing Thing - each other’s similarities and differences. Noticing the slight change in the way they hold themselves, the new strength in Scott’s gaze and the stillness of Stiles’ hands. “I mean, I see you often, but I definitely haven’t been paying attention. Obviously.”  
  
Stiles doesn’t like the apology in Scott’s tone. It’s uncalled for. He’d been _consciously_ hiding something, Scott shouldn’t be apologetic or blaming himself in any way.  
  
“Don’t Alpha me,” Stiles snaps softly. He wants the apology in Scott’s tone gone. “You’re not supposed to protect me from my own spark, dude. It was my choice to start learning how to use it. And I know I’m not that good at it yet, but one day I’ll be able to help you.”  
  
“Stiles, you already do a lot for this pack, are you kidding me?! We wouldn’t have shanked half the evil we did in the past couple of years without you, you know that right?”  
  
“That’s not the help I’m talking about and you know it,” he replies. “Look, I’ve got friends from school, they’re teaching me what I need to know…”  
  
“—Who? Why haven’t I met these people? How do you know they can be trusted? Hey, if you really want to keep learning this we can go to Deaton together. I’ll help you.”  
  
Scott steps forward with his arm out, emphasising his imploring words, just as Stiles takes a step back in caution. This was not how he thought this would go.  
  
“Hey, whoa, wait. Scott, they’re not dangerous. They aren’t teaching me bad things, ask Lydia, she knows! I mean, she’s been to a lot of my sessions with Malia lately. She’s even learned some things, ask her!”  
  
_“It’s true,”_ Lydia’s voice drifts to him from the kitchen, and Scott’s head tilts towards the sound, not unlike what his canine self would do.

-x-  
  
_“It’s true, Scott. Don’t worry, I made sure to look into everything they’ve been studying since I busted him a while ago.”  
  
_ Scott lets the calm in Lydia’s voice wash over him, lets the meaning of her words sink in. Contrary to what Stiles had just told him not to do, he realises that he’s still ‘Alpha-ing’ his best friend anyway, always on the defensive. Protective. Suspicious of the unfamiliar. And even more so because it had the power to stop his friend’s heart. Literally.  
  
He thinks of all the times that Stiles had insisted on coming to him instead of the other way around. The hastily ended phone calls.  
  
_Dude, I gotta call you back, I’ve got this thing…  
  
Oh man, I need to take a raincheck bro, I was studying all night and I haven’t slept. I’m wiped.  
  
Actually, no, why don’t I just come to you. I gotta go see my Dad anyway._  
  
Stiles is looking at him with a hint of betrayal in his gaze. Scott isn’t surprised. If Stiles had questioned him suspiciously the same way he’d just done, he’d react the exact same way Stiles was reacting right now.  
  
-x-  
  
_“Idiot, I told you to stay where you were!” Stiles screams in his face. His best friend is dragging him by the shoulders into the cover of some trees. The moon is giving them just enough light to see.  
  
“I thought it was—”_  
  
_“No, dude, I told you not to move! I can’t believe you didn’t trust me, what the hell!”  
  
Scott lets Stiles admonish him because, yeah, he definitely deserves this one. Not listening to that siren shouldn’t have been an issue! Stiles had screamed and screamed into the spelled earpiece stuck in his head. Had yelled until he was raw in the throat. _ Stay where you are, don’t listen to her. Scott, stay where— _but he hadn’t. Had ignored his best friend’s commands. And now—_

 _“Next time, listen to my voice, Jesus Christ, dude! I was like ten feet away!”_  
  
_“I know,” he mumbles dazedly as Stiles drags him up against the bottom of a tall tree._  
  
_“Now, Stay. Here.” Stiles orders again as they clasp each other’s hands and squeeze tight._  
  
_“Okay,” Scott replies without hesitation as Stiles fists the hair on Scott’s forehead for a second before running off into the night with his ever-present baseball bat held tight in his grip._  
  
_The blow to his head had already healed for a while, but Scott doesn’t move until he hears Stiles’ all clear from the earpiece in his head._

  
-x-

  
Stiles watches the look of apology flood his best friend’s face before watching Scott-the-Alpha retreat and Scott-the-Best-Friend emerge. _And since when did he start having to do that consciously anyway?_

  
“Look,” Stiles starts, the caution melting out of him and his arms dropping limply to his sides. “I didn’t tell you what I was doing for no other reason than the fact that I thought I was looking into nothing in the first place. And then—things started to _work_ and –I guess I got carried away the past few months, and it was easier to keep this separate from Pack Stuff, and I’m still trying to get my head around it most times…”  
  
The sound of his own voice pathetically fading away doesn’t escape Stiles, but he doesn’t know what else to say besides the truth that had just poured from his mouth.  
  
“You know I’m not lying,” he adds, eyes shifting slightly towards the kitchen, because that was meant for Derek.  
  
Scott studies him pensively before he sighs.  
  
“Okay dude, I trust you, you know that. But you _died._ And not in a _sacrifice-to-save-our-parents_ kind of way, and not in an _I-was-attacked-by-a-supernatural-creature_ kind of way, either. That was some serious shit in the forest, I know that and I don’t know anything about magic.”  
  
-x-  
  
Derek doesn’t even bother to pretend to watch the eggs he’s been scrambling for five minutes now. He’s too engrossed in the conversation happening in the hallway.  
  
_“Actually, it was kind of an_ I-was-attacked-by-a-supernatural-creature _kind of way,”_ Stiles replies jokingly.  
  
Derek frowns even though it can’t be seen. He’s surprisingly annoyed by the way Stiles keeps trying to make light of the situation.  
  
He hears Scott’s huff of frustration. _Good_ , they’re on the same page.  
  
_“Can you at least talk to Deaton about this?”_ Derek is already picturing Stiles’ rolling eyes as Scott hurriedly adds, _“for me. Do it for my peace of mind. Come on dude, you can’t just spring this on me without letting me see for myself that it’s really okay.”_  
  
Vaguely he feels more than sees Kira squeak from beside him as she reaches past him to switch off the stove and take the spatula and frying pan out of his hands.  
  
_“Fine, okay. You all hear that?”_ Stiles’ voice rises with the question posed for all of them. _“I will go to Deaton. I will talk to him, and you all can even meet my friend because she’s on her way here to come get me anyway.”  
  
_ Derek’s brow wrinkles at the mention of this ‘friend’, the one that had been on the phone this morning.  
  
“We also need to figure out who sent the witches,” Derek reminds Scott without raising his voice as he finally moves from the stove and takes the coffee Lydia hands him.  
  
“And what they were after with all that chanting,” Ethan adds from his spot against the dining table.  
  
_“What? What are they saying?”_ he hears Stiles ask. He sees Scott’s answering smile as the two best friends walk back into the kitchen together.  
  
“Who sent the witches and why,” Isaac answers Stiles as he passes the two of them with a heaping plate of food on his way to the dining table.  
  
Derek watches Stiles slide back into his seat and wrap a hand around the coffee he’d left on the bench.  
  
“Suggestion box is now open,” Scott adds as he takes the seat beside Isaac.  
  
Danny lets out a frustrated sigh. “Well, we thought it was pixies and that turned out to be wrong so I’m pretty sure we’re back to square one. Anything else happen last night that could give us any clues?”  
  
Before anyone can reply Stiles startles out of his seat as his phone buzzes and lets out a shrill ring. He lets out a sharp cuss as he jostles coffee onto his hand, and Derek takes it all in at once as he realises Stiles’ body is back to its usual jitteriness. Stiles cusses again as he fumbles to put the phone to his ear while simultaneously shaking out the hand drenched in coffee.  
  
-x-  
  
“Yo,” Stiles blurts into his phone as he heads back towards the hallway he and Scott just vacated. He doesn’t go as far as slipping out of sight but stands by the entrance to the living room.  
  
“I’m here,” Malia replies in a bored tone of voice.  
  
Stiles hesitates as he turns back to look at his friends, eyes randomly meeting Derek’s as the older man continues to watch him.  
  
“Listen, I need you to—”  
  
“—Can we please first just take a second to recognise how lucky you are that I was picking up some stuff for my mom in the next town?” Malia interjects tauntingly.  
  
Stiles ducks his head from Derek’s discerning gaze.  
  
“Yes, oh wonderful friend of mine, a thousand million stars of gratitude be given to thy mighty prowess,” he recites dutifully.  
  
“Thank you, much better,” she drawls through the phone.

Stiles rolls his eyes and continues, “Yeaaaah okay…I kinda—I need you to come prove to them that you’re not a psycho.”  
  
He ignores the chastising frown Lydia throws his way, knowing after years of friendship how hard it is to actually offend Malia.  
  
“Stiles, you do know we’ve got class this afternoon right?”  
  
Nope, he completely forgot about it and is glad that Malia can’t see the way he throws a hand up in the air as he remembers.  
  
“We’ll be done before then,” he says into the phone as he shoots a questioning look at Scott who shrugs noncommittally at him.  
  
Malia groans in frustration, and he winces at the series of cartoon images in freeze-framed acts of violence that suddenly flash into his brain before his friend disconnects the call. It probably only took up half-a-second of time, but Stiles receives Malia’s frustration loud and clear.

They don’t really call it telepathy, mainly because they can only send each other soundless images of things they’ve seen before. But after years of practice, and realising no-one else they’d come across had enough power to reciprocate, well, you kind of start developing a system of communication – especially when you can only Flash one person. A system that came in especially handy during times of deep frustration or stress – when one or the other couldn’t articulate their feelings enough.  
  
Or if one were on the opposite side of campus.  
  
Or in Beacon Hills dealing with crazy supernatural creatures.  
  
Or having to skip a morning class to pick up your car-less friend.  
  
-x-  
  
_He’s just walking into his dorm when a static screen fills his vision. Stiles blinks it away and slams his door shut._  
  
_A black door with a fist knocking on it._  
  
_Stiles drops his bag to the floor and kicks off his shoes._  
  
_A dog on its hind legs staring at him with its tongue sticking out of its mouth. A kid on a pogo stick, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. The sun—as if he were looking directly at it. Elmo—waving and laughing. Stiles asleep—and then a feminine finger reaching out and pulling open one of his eyelids. Fireworks. A Starbucks Caramel Macchiato. Feminine arms swinging a baseball bat towards his fa—_  
  
_Stiles automatically turns away with a grunt and a hand to his head. “Jesus, ow!” – not that it hurt or anything, but the brain was a wonderful thing connected to pain receptors and—_  
  
_His door swings open with a loud bang. Malia stands in the doorway excitedly, book bag hanging from one arm and other arm loaded with books._  
  
_“How was that?!” She asks enthusiastically._  
  
_Stiles replies with a Flash of his own. The thumbs up emoticon from Facebook popping up in a message box._  
  
_“Excellent!” she praises with a smile._  
  
-x-  
  
Derek smells her before anything else, and it disconcerts him when he realises that Stiles’ new scent is thinly laced with this sweet, rich…honey.  
  
“Ohhh, that’s what that is!” Scott murmurs a second later, realising the same thing.  
  
“So, I’ve got work in an hour,” Isaac announces.  
  
“Me too,” Aiden chimes in.  
  
Scott waves a hand at them, “you guys get going, we’ll keep you posted. I’d like for Lydia to stay though?”  
  
Lydia looks away from where she’s trading looks with Stiles and nods in compliance.  
  
Derek rounds the bar and leans a hip on it as the rest of the group starts to disperse, grabbing pieces of bacon or cups of coffee on their way out. Kira pecks a kiss on Scott’s cheek and offers Stiles a gentle punch to the shoulder as she passes him. Derek tracks Stiles’ movements as he watches the younger man cross the dining room again.  
  
“Okay, so I just got off the phone with Malia, she’s cool with talking to Deaton. I told her we can meet you all at the clinic, it’s just that we’ve got class this afternoon and can’t stay long.”  
  
“Oh, can I grab a ride? Aiden’s taking my car,” Lydia chimes in.  
  
“Sure,” Stiles replies, like this isn’t the first time Lydia’s grabbed a ride before.  
  
Derek finally feels the urge to say something as he sees that Scott’s got a mouthful of bacon and eggs.  
  
“Scott and I will meet you at the clinic.”  
  
“Half hour okay?” Stiles asks back, already making his way towards the door with Lydia shouldering her handbag and trailing him.  
  
Scott hums in agreement as he takes the fist-bump Stiles offers him.  
  
As the door shuts behind them, Derek wanders over to one of the windows and tries not to look like a creeper as he peeks through his half open wooden blinders.  
  
There’s a girl with long brown hair dressed in a purple tank top and denim shorts outside his house. Her arms are crossed and she’s busy browsing the phone in her hand, body leaning casually against…Stiles’ jeep.  
  
Derek watches as her head turns up at the sound of the front door. Lydia gives a small excited squeal as she makes her way towards the girl. Malia smiles back and accepts Lydia’s hug and quick cheek-to-cheek greeting. He watches as Stiles hangs back and lets the girls finish. Lydia helps herself into Stiles’ jeep as Malia moves on towards Stiles. He notices the way they stare at each other for a second before the girl reaches up and fists a hand into Stiles’ still-bed-mussed hair. She ducks her head a little to meet his lowered gaze and Derek almost misses the soft murmur.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Stiles responds calmly.  
  
Derek watches as she steps closer, tugs a little on the sleeve of Stiles’ shirt with her other hand.  
  
“So, that was a big one,” she offers cautiously as the hand in his hair falls to his shoulder and rubs a little.  
  
“Yup,” Stiles responds, still motionless. Derek isn’t used to the shortness in Stiles’ replies.  
  
He watches as Malia rolls her eyes at Stiles, turns, and heads back to the jeep. “I am driving, because there is no way we’re gonna make it to that clinic alive if you drive while you’re filling me in on what happened.”  
  
Derek hears a faint snort from Lydia in the back seat before Malia’s starting the engine and revving it like she’s had enough practice with how to handle the pile of junk Stiles calls his baby. He sees Stiles slightly shake his head before rounding the front of his jeep and slipping into the passenger seat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N/A: Hope everyone had a great Easter break, wherever you are! My fiance and I took a small trip to Birmingham to see what was over there (not much, lol), it was a nice, short break =) Anyway, I've got a little glossary happening that I'll put at the end of this chapter just in case you guys want/need it. Enjoy this next chapter and let me know what you think, k? Happy reading!

“My mother is the reigning high priestess of our coven. My path has always been mapped to cross with Stiles because there is no one better he can learn from. Power like his can’t be left unbridled, it’s unheard of. And ‘fallen behind’ is kind of an understatement with him, I mean, _I’ve_ been learning since birth.”   
  
“Hey!” Stiles exclaims with mock resentment, while pretending that he hadn’t just spent the last two minutes trying to get used to Malia sounding so _official_ while talking about him. He only ever heard her speak like a grimoire* when she was; a) Speaking to her mother, b) Quoting from the said grimoire, c) Teaching him a lesson or d) Reciting a prophecy.   
  
She smacks at the finger he’s trying to stick into her side. “ _Not_ that he’s not an exceptional student. But then again you all probably knew that already,” she hurries to add as she nods at Scott who is standing beside a stoic and silent Derek.  
  
Deaton straightens from where he’s leaning against the far end of the veterinary table. “I know your mother, she’s a good friend of mine. Although, I wasn’t aware that Stiles had made an appearance into her readings.”  
  
“Oh, well, that’s because he didn’t appear as himself,” Malia explains slowly. “My mother just foretold a—how can I explain this...the appearance of a–giant…starburst? Something like the sun?...it floats into my lifeline at around my eighteenth year.”   
  
Stiles watches her pause and take note of the different levels of bewilderment trained at her. “Ugh, this is…harder than I thought.”   
  
Deaton’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “Please, allow me. Malia comes from a long line of witches, one that dates back to the very beginnings of magic. They are of the Diamond caliber. Very strong, very solid in their foundation, almost unbreakable. If she is who she says she is – which, I believe she is – she is the next reigning high priestess of the Diamond line. In my opinion, it is an act of both fate and a type of cosmic action-reaction, that Stiles’ spark happened to fully reveal itself just as he started college and was exposed to all these new people, and among them, new mystical beings,” he finishes with a slight nod towards Malia.   
  
Stiles snorts when she raises a hand to wave at Derek and Scott who are both still as motionless as statues. Lydia sits in the corner by the cabinet absently playing with her phone. She’s heard all of this before.  
  
“Okay,” Scott begins thoughtfully. “So Malia’s all clear, fine—but can you just explain to me how you ended up in that clearing last night? I’d barely been off the phone with you for an hour, definitely not enough time for you to drive…” Scott’s voice slowly fades away along with his ability to find the words to describe Stiles’ mysterious appearance. And also because Malia had arrived to pick Stiles up with his own car, obviously.   
  
Lydia looks up from her phone and pointedly shoves it into her bag as she raises an eyebrow at Stiles. Yep, this is what she’d been waiting for.

Stiles shoots a hesitant glance at Malia. Until now, he’d never had to explain himself to anyone because he’d never told anyone what he’d been doing. He takes in a breath and tries to get all the words and _terminology_ right in his head. After all, contrary to what it looked like, or what everyone thought, he still felt very much like a novice instead of a practicing mage.  
  
-x-   
  
Derek watches Stiles with a focus that he hasn’t used on the kid in years. He’s surprised at the way his wolf sneers at the playfulness Stiles and Malia display towards each other. Makes a mental note to evaluate it later.   
  
Stiles places big palms with twitchy hands onto the examination table. And since when did he start noticing the size of Stiles’ hands anyway?   
  
“Well it was an accident - again,” Stiles declares immediately, like he’s said the same thing so many times before. “I got off the phone with Scott after double checking that they did all the pixie traps right, and then I started doing homework – not the kind for school – I was practicing Divination,” he says after a quick glance towards Deaton and Lydia – who were following quite well, as opposed to the lost look on Scott’s face.   
  
Derek doesn’t interrupt and instead tries to remember what little he knew about…fortune telling. Because that’s what it was, essentially. Divination was fortune telling. He notices Scott’s mouth open, but before the alpha can voice the question Derek knows is coming, he turns his head slightly and murmurs under his breath, “fortune telling. He was trying to see the future.” Scott shuts his mouth again after a slight shift of his head towards Derek.

And since when did he and Scott start to flow almost as well as _ScottandStiles_ did anyway?   
  
“So, I was scrying through my mirror, just random things. What I would have for lunch the next day. If the paper I just handed in would come back with an A. If Lydia was dropping by in the next week or so. And, I don’t know, my brain must have thought of Scott or the pack somehow? Because the next thing I know, I’m seeing them in the forest and there are no pixies, and Isaac’s about to get his throat cut open and…I panicked. I closed the scrying window, I pulled on some shoes and bluffed a sigil jump from my dorm room.”   
  
Derek’s trying to keep up with all the unfamiliar terminology. _Scrying? Sigil jump?_ But he’s getting the gist of it and he knows Scott is too. Stiles is somehow able to magically teleport himself to different places now. Who knew?   
  
“No it’s not like that,” Stiles adds quickly as he points a finger at him and Scott. Because of course he knows what Scott’s thinking, and coincidentally what Derek’s thinking too. “It’s never worked that well for me before, ask these guys!” Stiles exclaims, gesturing wildly towards Lydia and Malia. “I’ve only ever been able to do short distances and it’s flaky at the best of times, sometimes it doesn’t even work, or I end up somewhere completely random. All I can think of that would’ve helped it work is that I was really worried about you guys and I didn’t – I didn’t wanna be too late,” Stiles’ voice cracks with the last part and his eyes shift down to the hands he’s lowered back on to the exam table.   
  
Scott sighs and drops a hand on Stiles’ shoulder from across the table as Derek connects the last few dots in his mind. Lydia hadn’t been part of the mission either but _she’d_ been there. She’d been there because she’d predicted that someone – Stiles – would die.   
  
“And you guys know the rest,” Stiles finishes softly.   
  
“No,” Lydia interjects, rising from her seat. “Tell us the rest,” she continues as she crosses her arms over her chest.   
  
Malia looks at Stiles. “What is she talking about? What did you do?”  
  
Derek watches Stiles glance at her. And if he weren’t watching Stiles as closely as he’d been, he would’ve missed the quick strips of gold that flit across Stiles’ hazel irises one after the other in quick succession. It reminds him of the shooting stars he and Cora used to glimpse falling through the sky while out running in the woods, except now, they’re in Stiles’ eyes instead.   
  
-x-  
  
Busted.   
  
Stiles quickly sends Malia a series of Flashes. The moments he tactfully skipped in the jeep.   
  
The pack standing in the clearing, frozen and motionless. Facing the witch and her mouth moving soundlessly as he spoke to her.

Angry witch.

Very, very angry witch raising her arms.

His arms out in front of him, catching the witch’s magic. His hands flat against the earth. A flash of the members of the coven frozen in mid-scream before exploding into piles of ash. Standing in front of Scott and the others. The sky above him and Derek’s worried face.   
  
He ends it abruptly when he accidentally lets slip a clear Flash of Scott mouthing _you died,_ which could be heard very audibly despite their mental conversations always lacking sound.  
  
Malia gasps and smacks him on the back of the head.   
  
“You died?!” she screams incredulously. “Are you freaking kidding me? What have I told you about control, I taught you better than this! Jesus, Stiles, you’ve gotta stop jumping in with both feet!”   
  
Scott’s whipping his head back and forth between them, surprise and confusion clear on his face. “What the hell? What just happened?”   
  
-x-  
  
Derek can almost feel Scott’s confusion as his own, and if it weren’t for him being the not-so-talkative type he would probably be just as vocal about it. So Stiles has somehow developed some telepathy skills along with all the other things he’d been (not) telling them. Who knew?  
  
And as always, Stiles knows the direction of Scott’s – and coincidentally Derek’s – thoughts.  
  
“No! It’s not like that either,” the kid blurts out quickly with a hint of exasperation. “It only works with her,” he adds as he gestures lamely towards Malia. “I told you, I’m actually not that good,” Stiles murmurs, face flushing with embarrassment.   
  
“On the contrary,” Deaton interjects calmly. “From what I’ve gathered, you were able to singlehandedly destroy a full coven. The high priestess you faced off with would’ve had the power of the whole coven at her disposal, not to mention a few extra. That’s _twelve_ witches, Stiles. You may not have meant to do what you did, but you _did_ do it. You should try to refrain from doubting yourself. The belief you commit to your spark affects the way it behaves, and consequently the things you can do with it. If you believe that it hardly works, then it won’t. But with more training and practice, I have no doubt that this spark of yours could easily surpass the magic of the strongest mage I know of.”   
  
Stiles lets out a disbelieving snort. “Don’t say Merlin,” he mumbles sarcastically.   
  
Deaton meets his eyes without flinching and replies, “I was going to say Emrys*, but yes, that name is also adequate.”   
  
Derek smells the anxiety that begins to emanate from Stiles at the same time that his expression loses its humour.   
  
“You’ve only been practicing for a few years, you’re bound to have a few slip-ups. But like I said, you’re an exceptional student,” Malia adds assuredly.  
  
No-one else is paying close enough attention but Derek smells Stiles’ anxiety kick up another notch, watches the tremor in his hands worsen and the kid move to hide it by shoving a restless fist into his hair.  
  
“Can we not get into this right now?” Stiles retorts shortly, eyes boring holes into Deaton and Malia. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment, don’t you think?”   
  
“Yeah, like if you guys have any idea _why_ they ambushed us in the first place,” Scott tacks on after his best friend.   
  
Stiles gives a slight shake of his head, scent of anxiety fading down to a light thrum beneath his skin.   
  
Deaton clears his throat and moves to open a locked cabinet partially hidden by one of the darker corners of the exam room. Derek feels the glamour spell cloaking it. He knows it makes that corner of the room unnoticeable and unclear to anyone not meant to see it.   
  
“Scott, you said you counted twelve witches, correct? There was no chance of you miscounting at all?”   
  
“They were all out of the woods by the time I started counting. She may have had us frozen in place but I could still see and hear them.”  
  
“There aren’t many covens that large on this side of the country,” Malia murmurs thoughtfully. “My mother would know if one were being formed to rival the size of ours, and we haven’t been notified of such a thing happening.”  
  
Deaton nods in agreement. “Exactly. The Wiccan community are very organised when it comes to keeping track of their kind. The foundation of a coven is detrimental to its success or failure. Quite similar to werewolf packs, a successful coven needs a certain degree of trust and familiarity. This is the reason why most covens are formed out of family ties. Magic would already be running through a family, and a close one would give a coven that degree of trust. And covens only grow when its members are willing to vouch for new witches. Most covens these days are quite small in size – Malia, please correct me if I’m wrong – but it would take at least a few years to build a group of twelve with that kind of training and power. One must undertake several trials to assess their skill level and the type of magic they have an affinity towards.”   
  
Malia nods in silent agreement.   
  
“Which brings me to my next hypothesis,” Deaton continues. “If Malia’s mother, a well-known, well-informed high priestess within the Wiccan community hasn’t been informed of this development at all, and not one of their people have been able to sense even an inkling of this coven or its formation, could it be possible that a higher power has been invoked? One that was interested in taking the blood of a true alpha?”   
  
“Like a summoning, or a séance,” Malia murmurs thoughtfully.   
  
Derek is fascinated by the way thought after thought is crossing Stiles’ face. He watches Stiles’ head tilt to the side as if he were listening for something, sees the same shooting-star-lights flit through his eyes as he slowly turns to look at Lydia.   
  
“Do that again,” he commands softly.   
  
-x-   
  
His vision tunnels in until everyone in the room fades out and only Lydia remains within his line of sight. They’d never really had the need to do this at a regular basis, but as she’d grown into her powers, sometimes Lydia was able to glimpse bits and pieces from the moments of the deaths she predicts. And since Stiles had started the Flashing with Malia, he and Lydia had decided to experiment to see if they were able to do something similar. It wasn’t the same as projecting choice images to someone – he had no control over what he saw – but Stiles had discovered that he was able to tap into Lydia’s predictions in the same way he called forward his divination skills. Sort of like mental eavesdropping, for lack of a better word.  
  
The banshee in Lydia brings back the recollection it had just dispelled. He focuses on the female drawl that filters through. _Brave alpha, such beautiful red eyes you have.  
  
_ Stiles flicks his eyes back to Lydia, shakes his head a little and raises a finger, signalling for her to skip forward. Lydia complies silently. Years of practice had made her an expert at replaying what she saw during predictions, especially if they turned out to be useful.   
  
_Invenies potestas in de sanguis de lupus._ The words are whisper soft and Stiles has to strain to hear them clearly.   
  
He doesn’t have enough familiarity with Latin to decipher more than one word.   
  
_Wolf.  
  
_ -x-   
  
So, Derek guesses that with the secret of Stiles’ magic out in the open, the performance of actual magic was _also_ now out in the open. Derek has no idea what Lydia and Stiles are mentally – and, yes, it’s definitely _mentally –_ exchanging, but he thinks he’s exclaimed enough surprise for the day that he can’t really be _more_ surprised any more.   
  
It’s been a while since they’ve needed Lydia’s glimpses from her death predictions and she’d always had to describe them to the pack out loud before. She never said anything about Stiles being able to ‘see’ them too.   
  
“Blood,” Lydia’s voice breaks through his thoughts. Her wide eyes are distant and, similar to Stiles, her head is cocked to one side, ear tilted up as if she was listening to something.   
  
“Wolf,” Stiles adds in a murmur. “Blood of the wolf?”   
  
“Find the power in the blood of the wolf,” Lydia corrects softly.   
  
Deaton turns to the cabinet filled with old books, runs a hand over the old, cracked spines and hooks a finger over the top of a thick, leather bound tome. He brings it back to the examination table and slowly starts flipping through the pages as Lydia and Stiles continue to listen for…whatever they’re listening for.   
  
The suspense ends abruptly when Lydia lets out a frustrated huff of breath and shakes her head. “I can’t. That’s it, I can’t get any more.”   
  
“It’s alright,” Deaton murmurs slowly. “That was actually enough to narrow our list down to two options, and while one of them requires for one to ingest a werewolf’s freshly harvested heart, the other only seeks to _drink_ the blood of werewolves—”  
  
“—for the key to eternal life,” Malia and Stiles finish off together. The dawning realisation on their faces tells Derek that he’s missing something, again.   
  
Malia throws her head up towards the ceiling and lets out a frustrated groan. “We’re not gonna make it to class, are we?” she exclaims dejectedly.   
  
Derek feels his heart skip when Stiles’ eyes meet his gaze as he replies to Malia with a resigned “ _nope”._  
  
-x-   
  
**Glossary**

Grimoire (n.) - A book of magic spells and invocations  
Emrys - From ‘Merlin’ (TV Show), Emrys is the name given to him by the druids.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trigger warning, mild panic attack.

Stiles throws a glance at Malia, comfortably slouched in his passenger seat, crossed ankles propped up against the corner of her open window. He’s got one eye on the road as they pull out of Lydia’s driveway and head back to Derek’s.  
  
Malia lets out a thoughtful sigh as she waves a hand at the stash of CDs between them. His CD player hasn’t functioned properly in years, and he is once again reminded of how cool this magic stuff can be as he watches a CD shift and float out of its sleeve, coaxed by Malia’s outstretched fingers. A small pink glow surrounds the CD and the first few beats of Coldplay reach his ears.  
  
-x-  


_He’s parked just outside of campus watching leaves fall out of trees when the passenger door opens and Malia pulls herself into the empty seat. She sends him a small smile and starts rifling through the pile of CDs collecting dust between them._

_“Hm, I like this one,” She murmurs, holding up a CD._

_“I don’t even know why I keep those here, I haven’t listened to a CD since I needed that jump start a while ago,” he replies._

_Malia holds a finger up at him,_ wait for it.

_He shoots her a curious look, Flashes her a bold, size 30 question mark on a blank open page on his laptop._

_“Ask and ye shall receive,” she murmurs as she holds the CD up between them and it starts to glow a light pink. **Call it magic, call it true. Call it magic, when I’m with you.**_

_He straightens in his seat and listens as the song continues. “No way!”_

_She’s sporting a smug smile as her head bobs with the beat of the song._

_“Teach me!” he demands excitedly._

_Malia grins at him. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”_

-x-  
  
As he parks in front of Derek’s house, Malia lets the CD drift back down into its sleeve, the music stopping abruptly with a quick squeak.  
  
“Okay, I’m going to head back to campus, see what I can find out. You good here?” Malia asks, throwing him a questioning look as she unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Yep, as good can be expected, considering,” he grumbles, almost to himself.

Stiles gets out of the driver’s seat, turns and shuts the car door and leans his arms against the window ledge as Malia wriggles into the seat behind the wheel from the passenger seat.  
  
She lets out a deep sigh as she slaps both hands at ten and two. Stiles blinks at her as she looks him directly in the eye. “I will call you as soon as I know anything. Can you like, _not_ do anything stupid until then, please?”  
  
Stiles lets out an incredulous snort, Flashes her Avengers’ Captain America in hero pose, arms akimbo and shield on his arm.  
  
Malia frowns at him. “I’m serious. You may be the next Emrys but you’re still a loose cannon. You know what I mean.”  
  
Stiles’ sense of humour fades with Malia’s reminder. “Don’t call me that,” he retorts nervously. “It’s not true so stop kidding yourselves, okay? You, Deaton and all the other _magical beings_ need to quit speculating.”  
  
“Stiles—,” Malia tries to protest.  
  
He feels his anxiety levels rise and his fingers start to tremble with them as he cuts her off abruptly.  
  
“—Stop. Just don’t, okay? I can’t–I don’t –I don’t have the power of the universe, okay, I just don’t. I wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.”  
  
Malia continues to stare at him, looks like she’s about to say something else and push, but then decides against it at the last minute and ends the conversation by starting his jeep.  
  
“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” she repeats to him as he steps back and lets her reverse out of Derek’s driveway.  
  
“Be careful!” he calls back as the jeep pulls away.  
  
-x-  
  
The house is quiet as he shuts the front door behind him, and Stiles is surprised to see that it’s just Derek moving around in the kitchen and starting up a fresh pot of coffee.  
  
“Scott’s making the rounds. Sometimes he can’t help needing to check up on everyone when things are going down,” Derek explains without being asked.  
  
Stiles nods in understanding as he remembers the numerous snippets of ‘alpha-instinct’ discussions he’s had with Scott. He continues towards the kitchen and slips into one of the stools by the breakfast bar, pulling his phone out of his pocket and placing it beside him.  
  
The hair on his arms are tingling and he can’t figure out whether it’s because he hadn’t used in a while and his spark’s running high, or whether it’s because he can’t recall the last time he and Derek had been alone together. In which case, this would be the _first_ time in _years_ and he was getting…tingly?  
  
_Nah, must be the former,_ he thinks to himself as he pulls the tips of his long sleeves over his hands.  
  
But Stiles second guesses himself when Derek turns and meets his gaze, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against the bench on the opposite side of the kitchen.  
  
He’s older. He’s got a few new wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and there are tiny hazel flecks floating in the green of his irises. The beard hasn’t really changed that much and his shoulders are just as broad as ever, but Stiles doesn’t feel as small as he once did.  
  
No, Stiles feels the past few years in himself too. He feels the way his body doesn’t flinch from the directness of Derek’s gaze. Acknowledges the new found calm that stays with him even when he remembers that it’s just him and Derek in the house. Feels a different sort of _knowing._ Like they’re sharing a beautiful secret of safety and _home._

Stiles hopes that Derek doesn’t notice the skip in his heartbeat.  
  
-x-  
  
He hears the way Stiles’ heartbeat stutters and smells, again, the anxiety under the kid’s skin that never fully went away in the first place since he’d first noticed it at Deaton’s. He decides not to question it for the moment.  
  
“So, eternal life,” he brings up. After what they’d discussed at Deaton’s, they’re finally all on the same page. “What kind of people do you hang out with these days?” he continues, only half teasing.  
  
Stiles lowers his head and glances up at him from behind a silly mop of brown hair. “Hey, I hardly even know this witch, okay? We just thought she was another over-enthusiastic fan girl who wanted to learn the ropes, y’know?” he quotes the air as he says the words. “Malia usually has a good sense of these things so I don’t know how the girl fooled us both. I kind of just thought she was hopeless at the magic thing—always placing the candles in the wrong spot, getting ingredients mixed up and always talking about the ‘holy grail’ and an ‘elixir of life’—I had no idea she was speaking the truth the whole time.”  
  
Derek raises an eyebrow at him as he goes to grab some mugs from the cabinet and pours them both some coffee. He takes both mugs and puts them on the bar between him and Stiles.  
  
“Speaking of truth. Fortune telling, mind reading, teleporting—” he murmurs, trying to keep the judgement out of his voice. He realises that it’s probably not his place to cast judgement on whatever Stiles had been hiding from them, but he doesn’t let it stop him from leaning his elbows against the bar and catching Stiles with his gaze again.  
  
Stiles sits up straighter and stiffens his broad shoulders even though Derek can see the blush slowly creeping its way up his face.  
  
“—It’s not, it’s _sigil jumping,_ and Divination and…it’s not technically mind reading, it’s more like flashes of pictures…” Stiles’ voice fades away as Derek’s patience wears thin and he lets out a warning growl along with a flash of his wolf eyes.

“Okay I’m sorry,” Stiles blurts out in a soft rush. Derek lets the blue fade from his eyes and gently steers the conversation back to what he wants to know. It’s been a while since he and Stiles have had enough time to have a good, _deep_ talk and he doesn’t think Scott’s been getting much out of his best friend either.

“Tell me about the power of the universe,” he murmurs softly, repeating the words he’d overheard from Stiles’ conversation with Malia.  
  
Stiles’ anxiety cranks up again and Derek watches the kid’s fingers tremble as his heart rate picks up.  
  
“It’s–it’s stupid. It’s not true. Deaton and Malia and all the others, they think—but I _don’t_ , okay? It’s just not—it’s not—” Stiles sucks in a harsh breath and swallows spasmodically as he waves his hands around, trying to explain.  
  
Derek frowns as Stiles begins to hyperventilate and quickly reaches up and grabs the younger man’s hands with both of his own, giving them a firm squeeze. “Hey. Hey! It’s okay—it’s okay, just breathe.”  
  
He’s still gripping Stiles’ hands as the kid struggles to regain control of his breathing. Derek can smell the anxiety coming off him in waves and he squeezes Stiles’ hands again. “It’s just me, okay? Calm down. Breathe,” he coaches slowly.  
  
Derek’s never been front and centre during one of Stiles’ panic attacks before, but he’s listened in on Scott talking him down from them enough times to know what to do. He waits until Stiles’ breathing slows down. Watches his pupils retract and the colour creep back into his face.  
  
“Okay? Everything’s fine,” he soothes. “Now just _talk_ to me. What’s wrong?”  
  
-x-  
  
Stiles lowers his eyes and avoids Derek’s questioning gaze. The anxiety rushing through him makes his leg jitter uncontrollably against the floor and he tries to clench his hands into fists but Derek’s already got them, and the older man squeezes them again in response to Stiles’ instinctual movement.  
  
“She-Malia-she’s always talked about it. Almost right from the start. Me being the ‘starburst’ in their prophecies. My spark, i-it’s…different. It _grows._ Fast. And it’s strong and it’s confusing.”  
  
-x-  
  
Derek lets Stiles pull his hands out from his gentle grip. Watches as Stiles continues to talk.  
  
“She says it could be stronger than the universe; that it comes from the Light.”  
  
Stiles raises his hands between them, stares pensively at his arms as blue and gold slivers begin to wind their way up and down his forearms, snaking to and fro. And Derek is hypnotised by how _beautiful_ it is.  
  
“But, everything needs balance, right? So with the Light should also come the Dark,” the slivers of light surrounding Stiles’ forearms fade until they become wisps of black, ashy smoke. His veins become prominent and black lines start coating his wrists. “They’re fighting inside me, Derek. They’re fighting for my vessel, I can feel it. If I have what Malia says I have, the power of the universe? – How am I supposed to control that? I’m not strong enough for that, I’m just a kid! It’s too much and I don’t have it. I _can’t._ ”  
  
Stiles looks up at him with torture in his gaze, arms still engulfed in tendrils of black smoke and thick strips circling his wrists.  
  
“She says it’s normal. All magical beings experience this tug of war inside them, are given the chance to choose where they belong. It doesn’t matter that I bloomed late, she says it’s the same. But it doesn’t _feel_ the same, Derek. This—my spark, it’s different. Sometimes, I feel like I’m literally about to explode out of my skin if it’s stuck in there for too long. Like I _need_ to use, it doesn’t matter if it’s the Light or Dark. It feels like an _addiction_.”  
  
Stiles takes a second to inhale and Derek looks on as the black smoke and tendrils dissipate until they’re back to the ethereal blue and gold lights. The whole time, Stiles’ hands remain steady and motionless, no tremors in sight.  
  
“I never told you this, but when I was possessed by the Nogitsune, I could remember everything even when I wasn’t myself. But this, when I use…I can hardly remember what I did to save the pack last night, Der. I don’t remember how I pulled all that power into myself or how I made that coven disappear. I can’t remember if I used one or the other, or both.”  
  
Derek notices Stiles’ hands begin to shake through the lights but doesn’t interrupt.  
  
“I remember all that Magic feeling so good pulsing through me, and asking the others if they were okay. I don’t—” there’s an incredulity and confusion in Stiles’ eyes that makes Derek want to reach out to him. “—It _didn’t_ hurt when I died. I didn’t know because it didn’t _hurt_. All I could feel was the Magic. Everyone thinks I’m doing it on purpose but, Derek, _I_ had no control anymore _–_ I just kept wanting more _._ And I feel like the Light and Dark are just waiting for me to slip up so that they can tear my whole vessel apart.”  
  
Stiles’ breaths starts to escalate again just as Derek tears his eyes away from the lights still swirling around Stiles’ forearms. He ignores the way the kid speaks about the Light and Dark like they’re _people_ and without hesitation, reaches through the lights surrounding his arms and grabs his hands again. The lights disappear as he gives Stiles’ hands a firm squeeze and he ducks his head to meet the kid’s averted eyes.  
  
“Listen to me, hey, listen. Every magical or supernatural being or whatever you want to call them, every one of us has its own battle. You’ve seen it before, you’ve seen it in me, you’ve seen it in Scott, in Lydia – every one of us has its own struggle. Yours, yours is exactly the same, you hear me? My mom, she used to say that all things have a way of twisting and untwisting. That the universe wouldn’t send you anything you couldn’t handle. Even if there’s no other spark like yours, it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t belong to anybody else. Just like werewolves learn to trust their instincts and struggle to find their anchor, you just need to figure out what it is that can help you see through the Light.”  
  
“Or Dark,” Stiles murmurs worriedly.  


-x-  


Stiles is jostled by the fist that Derek playfully shoves into his shoulder, dissolving the tension in the air.  
  
“It’s Light,” Derek retorts confidently.  
  
Stiles shakes his head, stands up and grabs both of their now cold coffees and sticks them in the microwave for reheating. “You don’t know that,” he mumbles under his breath, then gets a second to curse super werewolf hearing before Derek grabs him by the elbow and spins Stiles around to face him again.  
  
They’re standing toe to toe, chests almost touching. And since when did he start having to look down a little to meet Derek’s eyes, anyway?  
  
Stiles glances down at Derek’s mouth, almost close enough to feel his breath. He lets out a trembling sigh, focuses on a speck of dust on Derek’s right shoulder instead and murmurs, knowing that hearing his words clearly isn’t an issue for the werewolf in the room.  
  
“I’m scared. I can hardly keep up with the things I can do. It’s like what Deaton said, I talk like it hardly works to keep it from working too much. I feel like I barely have a hold on it when I let it loose. Malia says that everyone can use them both at some level. But the Dark? I can feel it waiting. Malia…sometimes she can be blind – she doesn’t believe I’m anything but for the Light. But she wasn’t there in high school, you know? She wasn’t there when I was possessed by a trickster, she didn’t see me at my weakest or my worst, she doesn’t feel the residues of the Nemeton inside of me, the—”  
  
-x-  
  
Derek slaps a gentle hand over the kid’s mouth, meets his hazel eyes as they widen with a startled inhalation.  
  
He’s very aware of the fact that there’s tonnes of space in the kitchen of which his body could otherwise be occupying, but all of a sudden he feels like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right where he’s standing. Toe to toe and chest to chest with Stiles.  
  
“Hey,” he murmurs, “twisting and untwisting, remember? You’re stronger than this, you hear? And you’ve got Scott, the pack, you’ve got Malia and your friends in college, and your dad…and me.”  
  
Derek is startled by the level of sincerity he’s feeling. How much he means the words coming out of his mouth. He feels his skin rise with goose pimples and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he lowers his hand from Stiles’ mouth.

“I’m here too,” he repeats as he leans in closer, letting their breaths mingle. “Whatever you need, I’m right here.”  
  
-x-  
  
Before Stiles leans in to close the remaining distance between them, he thinks about all the different ways Derek could hurt him after this. But then his thoughts change to how it’s all totally worth it, especially when he finally decides to plant a soft, unhurried kiss against Derek’s waiting mouth.  
  
Time seems to freeze around them, sound is muted in Stiles’ ears. Derek still has a grip on his elbow and his other arm is hanging limply by his side. It’s been a while since he’s thought of Derek this way and the years have made them grow into each other with a familiarity that is surprisingly comforting. And Stiles, well he doesn’t feel all that inexperienced anymore.  
  
He’s kissed his fair share of girls and boys by now and he knows what he’s doing when he raises the arm Derek’s not gripping and places a gentle hand against the dip of Derek’s waist. The werewolf releases a strangled gasp and Stiles presses his lips more firmly against Derek’s, leans in even more towards him, is about to deepen the kiss when—  
  
-x-  
  
—His eyes snap open, reality slams back into him as he drops the grip he has on Stiles, brushes away the large hand at his waist and takes an urgent, startled step back. He doesn’t quite know what to think of this. He isn’t prepared—hadn’t even thought—isn’t prepared for—

There’s _always_ been something there, he’s not stupid, but this is—this is…  
  
-x-  
  
Stiles watches the colour flood Derek’s face, doesn’t quite know how to read the expression in his eyes. Doesn’t quite know what to say or what to—  
  
“Wait—!” Stiles blurts out as soon as he realises that Derek’s going to bolt.

But Derek’s already striding towards the front door, and the next thing he knows it’s slamming shut, and the house echoes around Stiles with the silence Derek leaves behind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is where I got the title of this fic =) Also, Scott uses some X-men references in this one, but you guys totally shouldn't think that mages are the same as mutants. That's just how Scott's trying to get his head around...everything, lol. Happy reading!

Stiles sighs in frustration.

Confusion makes the grip he has on his spark falter and a small zap of electricity leaves his fingers as he tries to reach for the phone he left on the bar.  
  
“Shit,” he snaps softly, shaking the static out of his fingers.  
  
He tries to reach for his phone again, succeeds and manages to unlock it but finds the screen frozen with the messages app half open and the home screen all scrambled. Stiles swears again and gives his hands another shake, watches a few golden sparks fly out of his fingers and disappear quietly into the floor. It’s definitely been a while since he’s used and the volatility inside him makes him nervous. He automatically sucks in a steadying breath and focuses for a second on closing his eyes. If there’s one thing Malia had tried to drill into him, it was a few tips on how to try to keep his spark from exploding into a massive wild fire.  
  
Slowly, Stiles opens up his senses, stretches them out far and wide. He feels the trees sway in the breeze just outside the house, the grit of the dirt on the driveway and the way a thousand, million, blades of grass brush against the open air. He thinks he senses Derek just on the edge of the property but quickly withdraws and heads in the opposite direction. Stiles extends his senses as far as they can go until he feels the insistent call of his magic ease off of him a little and his consciousness is hovering against the edge of the sky. He practices brushing soft greetings against the stars hiding behind the daylight, practices drawing warmth from the sun and smooth, cool light from the moon.  
  
-x-  
  
_“There’s a way, for when you feel like it’s getting too much or you’re about to explode,” Malia explains to him patiently. “Remember how I said that your spark – or magic – it’s like a muscle. It needs to be stretched, it needs exercise. It needs to be let out regularly, you can’t keep it trapped inside all the time or you’ll go nuts, trust me.”_

_Stiles raises an eyebrow at her, “you sound like you’re talking about a dog.”_

_Malia smacks his arm. They’re both sitting cross-legged in her room, facing each other with a candle lit between them._

_“Focus, I’m serious. You’re learning fast so your spark is strengthening quickly. You need to learn how to keep it from overtaking you, understand?”_

_“But it doesn’t feel—”_

_Malia nods at him and shoots him a sympathetic smile. “It may not feel so bad now, but you just wait until that direct line to the universe fully opens up to you. It is both wonderful and…horrific.”_

_“Horrific, huh?” Stiles repeats uncertainly, wondering for the nth time what exactly he’d gotten himself into._

_Her smile turns reassuring._

_“Don’t worry, Stiles, that’s why I’m here. It’ll be okay. Now take a deep breath and close your eyes.”_

-x-  
  
The house is dark by the time Stiles returns to himself. He has several dozen small golden orbs circling him and easily urges them to converge into a globe the size of a soccer ball to light up the kitchen.

He sighs disappointedly when he realises that Derek hasn’t returned.

As his consciousness continues to trickle back inside him he glances at the phone still clutched in his hand and successfully swipes through his messages and missed calls without once screwing up the software. Finding no missed calls from Malia and just a few texts from his college friends, he slips his phone into his pocket and goes to rinse out the untouched coffees still sitting in Derek’s microwave.

He’s just about to hang up the dish towel after drying his hands when the front door swings open slowly and a figure steps through the threshold and pauses in the hallway, hand still on the doorknob.

Habit makes Stiles immediately call his ball of light back into himself, consequently plunging the whole house into darkness.  
  
“Stiles?” Scott’s voice floats through to him, confusion thick in his voice.  
  
“Sorry, hold on, I don’t—the switch…”  
  
Light engulfs the room and illuminates Scott still in the hallway, this time with his hand on a light switch.  
  
“Dude, what the hell are you doing standing in the dark?”  
  
“I wasn’t,” Stiles tries to explain, but gives up halfway when Scott raises an eyebrow at him. “Never mind,” he continues, making his way towards the living room and dropping listlessly onto the couch.  
  
“Where’s Derek?” Scott questions, having realised his second wasn’t even in the house.  
  
Stiles shakes his head in defeat and tries not to blush.  
  
“I have no idea.”  
  
Scott drops into the armchair across from him and studies him with knowing eyes. “No way, did something finally happen between you two?”  
  
Stiles lets out a frustrated groan. “I think I scared him off and he’ll either hate me or kill me when he gets back.”  
  
Scott grins at him with confidence, “I don’t think so, bro. You may have been away at college but I’ve been here the whole time and, let’s just say that I can tell the difference between _Stiles-days_ and _no-Stiles-days,_ no matter how few and far between. Just give him time.”  
  
Stiles notices with a little envy the level of ease in which Scott seems to speak for Derek and takes his advice to heart, the way he’s always taken his best friend’s advice.  
  
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,” he mumbles, guilt moving through him as he continues to think of all the ways they’d drifted apart while Scott and the pack had drifted closer together.  
  
“Nah, bro, it’s not your fault, it’s not really anybody’s fault. We just got a little busy and careless, that’s all. A lot of people drift apart without even realising it all the time, that’s what life does. The only good thing probably coming out of this is that you’ve finally stopped hiding things and we’ve realised that we’ve been drifting, right?” Scott states matter-of-factly.  
  
Stiles raises an eyebrow at his best friend. “Since when did _you_ become so wise?”  
  
Scott smirks at him. “Alpha duties,” he half jokes.

There’s a second of quiet between them as a hesitant expression crosses his best friend’s face and then Scott blurts out the question in his mind before Stiles can call him on it.

“Dude, so are you like…a witch now?” he probes slowly.  
  
Stiles blushes, doesn’t quite know how to respond. He hasn’t really played out this conversation with Scott in his head before.  
  
“Malia calls me a mage,” he replies quietly. “She says it’s because I don’t need anything but my hands to do magic. Witches—sometimes they still need an object, like a crystal ball or a staff to channel their spark. But I generally don’t use anything. I can amplify my spark by using runes and sigils and, like, when I was using the mirror to scry for you guys—but, most times it’s just my hands,” he finishes calmly, raising his hands up in front of him.  
  
“That is cool,” Scott exclaims, eyes glinting with excitement. “Kind of like how Spiderman shoots webbing out of his wrists or… X-Men! Dude, you’re like, Professor X with all that mind stuff—wait, no—Oh my god, you’re Jean Grey! You’re Phoenix Force* Jean Grey!” Scott babbles, shooting up from the slouch he’d been in. “Setting those witches on fire and appearing out of nowhere—dude, your teleporting might as well be stargates*, oh my god—”  
  
For a moment he gets sucked into Scott’s excitement and grins, forgets the slightly Derek-Sized/Power-of-the-Universe Depression he was beginning to sink into and thinks of the countless youthful imaginings he’d shared with Scott. Realises that the manifestation of his spark ha essentially validated every childhood dream they’d ever had. Super powers, real magic—  
  
—but then he deflates as he remembers what happens when Phoenix Force Jean Grey gets her very first taste of evil and the Dark. To cut a long story short, she becomes overwhelmed by it all, transforms into a force of total destruction, and kills herself.  
  
The look on Scott’s face tells him the exact moment he comes to the same conclusion and they end up staring at each other with equal amounts of disappointment and dismay on their faces.  
  
“But she comes back to life,” Scott pronounces, dismay giving way to hope. That was his best friend for you, always hopeful and optimistic. Scott always succeeded in seeing the best in people even if there wasn’t anything good to see. “Dude, she comes back to life and she manages to control the Phoenix Force with the humanity inside her. Which makes her good,” Scott adds, meeting his eyes unswervingly and speaking slow enough so that the words creep its way into Stiles’ brain and stay there.  
  
Stiles lets the anxiety ebb out of him and repeats after Scott with resignation in his tone, “which makes her good.”

-x-  
  
Derek’s been away from the house for a good few hours just roaming the town when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He picks up immediately and doesn’t even get a word in as Scott’s voice cuts him off.  
  
“Dude, where are ya?”  
  
“Around. What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, but I’m calling a pack meeting at your house, like, right now.”  
  
“Alright, I’m coming back.”

Derek doesn’t wait for a reply and disconnects the call before pocketing his phone.  
  
-x-  
  
Everyone is already gathered in his living room by the time he gets there and Scott and Stiles are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the group, poses identical with their arms crossed over their chests.  
  
He gets a swift reminder of what happened that afternoon when Stiles looks up and momentarily meets his gaze. He feels his wolf stretch and whine a little as Stiles resolutely looks away.  
  
“Great, we’re all here,” Scott’s speaks clearly.  
  
“What did you guys find out?” Allison questions from her seat beside Isaac. Kira’s seated on a bar stool just behind Scott and Stiles, and the rest of the pack are either settled on the couches or the floor.  
  
Derek glances around momentarily before deciding to stay where he is as Stiles steps forward and starts in on the update.  
  
“Okay, so you guys all know what we found out at Deaton’s. Malia went back to campus this afternoon to see if she could chase up the witch we think is causing all this, and she just called about an hour ago. Alice is on campus, she’s nowhere near here and when Malia spoke to her, Alice had no idea what she was talking about. She’s been in the coven for a few months now and aside from the rookie mistakes and all the ‘eternal life’ talk…I mean, I was 95% sure it was her but it looks like…” Stiles’ voice fades away as he shoots Scott an uncertain glance.  
  
“So basically we’re back to square one,” Aiden interrupts with a low voice.

“Look,” Stiles begins, “has anyone here made any new friends in the past couple of weeks? Maybe mentioned Scott being a true alpha to someone by accident?”

Almost all at once the pack exclaims their offense at the question.

_Are you kidding me?!_

_I would never!_

_You better take that back, Stilinski._

_I can’t believe you’d even ask that!_

“Okay, okay!” Stiles exclaims, backtracking swiftly with hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just trying to cover all the bases, everyone relax.”  
  
“You should mind your tongue with your next question,” Lydia drawls as she examines her nails calmly.  
  
-x-  
  
Stiles has known Lydia long enough to know when she’s irritated, and right now she looks damn well pissed off.

He thinks that maybe he’s spent too much time away from everyone if he doesn’t even think twice about hurting their feelings, but dammit, a good detective always makes sure to look into _everything_.  
  
He sighs thoughtfully.  
  
“Okay, what about enemies? Anyone in particular come to mind? Say, someone who wants to live forever or…drink werewolf blood, or—”

His question is cut off abruptly by the buzz of his phone. Stiles turns and snatches it off the breakfast bar, putting it to his ear.

“Yo.”

“Stiles.”

He knows there’s something wrong as soon as Malia says his name. Her voice is low and grave. He frowns a little, glances up and catches Derek watching him and turns his back on him and the pack—faces the stove instead.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Stiles listen to me, I was wrong.”  
  
The hairs on his arms rise as he questions her. “What? What do you mean—”  
  
“—Stiles, shut up and listen to me, just listen! I was wrong about Alice. It’s her, you hear me? She’s behind all this. She’s channelling something, she screwed up a séance and let something out. There’s something inside her—”  
  
“—Fuck.”  
  
“Stiles, I can’t-I don’t have enough strength to jump myself to you. It took all I had to fight her but I couldn’t stop her and now she’s coming to you, you hear me? She wants the true alpha and she’s coming to you right now.”  
  
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs quietly, feels his heartbeat pick up and the colour drain from his face.

“She’s got another coven behind her so take all the help you can get, okay?”  
  
“No, wait, what do I do?! I’ve never—Malia, you need to be here!”  
  
Her voice softens with her next words. “No, I don’t, Stiles. You can do this, okay? Remember who you are, remember what you know. _Trust_ yourself.”  
  
“No, you don’t understand, the Dark—”  
  
“—is no match for you,” Malia finishes calmly, faith thick in her voice.  
  
“Malia…” Stiles protests feebly.  
  
“It’s going to take me a few hours to drive there, my magic’s exhausted Stiles. I’ll see if my mom’s got some herbs or a spell to give me a boost but you need to be ready she’s—”  
  
The call ends abruptly and he has just enough time to turn and meet Derek’s gaze before the whole house is plunged into darkness.

 

-x-  
  
**Glossary**  
  
Phoenix Force Jean Grey - See "Phoenix Force" <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Grey>


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I kind of really love this chapter. Was feeling BAMF!Stiles like nobody's business actually, lol.
> 
> Would really like to know what you guys think =D Enjoy!

Almost immediately Stiles lets free a few small light spheres, his spark sighing softly in his chest with the pleasure of being used.

He sets the brightness to a dim glow and puts a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture as he meets each pack member’s gaze.

His eyes flit over Kira slowly drawing her katana, kitsune eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. Allison has moved to a standing position, compound bow at the ready. All the wolves in the room are stiff and alert, eyes glowing blue, gold and red.  
  
Stiles gestures for Ethan to take Danny and Lydia into the basement. They’d done enough drills in the past few years to know exactly what to do. Lock the basement door, arm the stairway, arm the basement, and then descend further down into the state-of-the-art panic room Derek had modelled especially for (and against) the supernatural. They would be safe down there.  
  
He watches as Scott gestures quietly to Derek from across the room. _Hear anything?_  
  
Derek’s poised and alert next to one of the windows as he answers Scott’s question with a slight shake of his head. _Nothing._  
  
Slowly, Stiles steps forward, headed towards the front door.  
  
Scott slaps a hand on him, grips his forearm tight and shakes his head adamantly, eyes like rubies.  
  
Stiles pauses and murmurs softly, knowing that Scott doesn’t need to strain to hear what he’s saying.  
  
“Phoenix force Jean Grey, remember?”  
  
The scarlet bleeds from Scott’s eyes until all that’s left is the soft brown of his irises. There’s a tortured worry in his gaze and Stiles knows that part of that torture is because his best friend can’t offer to go with him. Alice—or, actually, _Not-_ Alice—is after the true alpha, and Scott knows better than to give her even the slightest access to that.  
  
Before he can move away from Scott’s tight grip, a voice echoes in his head. _You think you can protect them from me?_

The wolves, Kira and Allison all cringe with a sound Stiles doesn’t seem to hear. Scott has snatched his hand back from Stiles’ arm in favour of covering his ears, even though the motion is useless.  
  
With a bravado he doesn’t feel, Stiles follows his instincts and responds out loud. Tries to appeal to the girl he thought was his friend.

“Alice, listen to me. I know you can hear me. You can fight it, I know you can.”  
  
_Alice isn’t here anymore, Magician._  


“Who are you?” Stiles asks while slowly moving around the room, touching each member of the pack with his spark and silencing the noise ringing in their heads. First, Scott, who cautiously lowers his hands from his ears. Then Kira, Isaac, Allison.  
  
_You dare to demand my name?_ The voice rings with what he thinks is a feminine undertone.  
  
“I only wish to recognize of whom this incredible power is stemming from,” Stiles replies, adding some formality to his speech. Flattery got people _everywhere._  
  
He almost sees the demon preen proudly. _Circeris, demon goddess, chaser of the elixir of life._  
  
Stiles pauses in front of Derek and unlike the platonic touch he had given to the others, he lifts his hand and slowly traces a finger down the side of the older man’s face, stubble scratching his fingers.  
  
-x-  
  
The high pitched ringing noise trying to rip Derek’s brain in two slowly subsides. Stiles’ eyes are flitting with glitter gold as Derek holds his gaze. He takes his hands away from his ears and straightens slowly.

“You can’t have them,” Stiles replies to the air. There a far away look in his gaze even as he continues to stare at Derek. “These wolves are protected.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence when Derek knows a reply is being said, and it frustrates him that not even his wolf-ears can pick it up.

Stiles takes his hand away from Derek’s face, listening.  
  
-x-  
  
_You underestimate me, Magician, if you think I need permission to take what I want._

The voice is cold and angry and Stiles doesn’t get a chance to respond before several whirlwinds crash through the doors and windows. Scott screams his name at the same time that Kira yells for Scott, Allison calls for Isaac and Stiles tries to grab for Derek. The whirlwinds envelope each wolf in the living room, whisks around them violently until they disappear from sight.

Kira and Allison stand dumbfounded and Stiles finds himself engulfed by a sudden force of anger.

“Fuck!” He explodes in frustration.

“What do we do?” Allison exclaims at the same time. And if the girls were startled by his angry outburst, they did well in hiding it.

Stiles doesn’t bother to explain as he swiftly draws a tracker sigil into the air. The residual trail of magical energy is illuminated to him almost immediately and he latches his spark onto it with the strongest grip he has before motioning to Allison to grab his hand.

“Quick,” he instructs, motioning towards Kira as well. Kira steps forward and takes Allison’s outstretched hand, katana gripped tight with the other.

“Stiles, what—”

Stiles silences the query with one look, checks to make sure they have their weapons – are ready for a fight.  
  
“Hold on tight.”  
  
-x-  
  
Scott’s just about to swipe a claw through a possessed coven member’s already shredded torso when there’s a startled squeal to his far left followed by a flurry of dust and dirt.

He looks on in surprise as he lays eyes on Allison dusting herself off in stunned silence, Kira sitting up from where she’d landed on a patch of grass, and Stiles doubled over and breathing hard, with one knee and one arm bracing himself against the ground.

“Dude!” he exclaims anxiously. He hasn’t quite gotten used to seeing Stiles popping in and out of thin air, let alone Allison and Kira!

“Sorry, sorry!” Stiles apologises breathlessly as he rises to his feet. “I’ve never done that before—holy shit, oh my god,” he stammers with incredulously. “I’m sorry, that landing totally needs work—holy shit! I can’t believe it worked, I can’t—are you guys okay?”  
  
-x-  
  
He whirls around at Allison and Kira, takes in their slow nods of affirmation before Scott grabs him by the arms and shakes him a little.

It takes one glance to figure out that Not-Alice had transported Scott and the others back to the clearing of the other night. It takes another glance to figure out that Scott was on his own.

“Where are the others?” Stiles asks quickly.

“I don’t know,” Scott replies. “I came to and I was on my own with just one of them watching me. I don’t know where the others are.”

Stiles feels a wildness inside him that he can’t explain. Takes a deep, calming breath and tries to think of Circeris’ strategy.

“Okay. Okay, she wants you separated away from the others. She wants the betas away from you so they can’t protect you. She’s—”

“—Heads up!” Allison shouts as she draws an arrow and fires it into the distance.

“It’s Isaac, he’s hurt. He’s got two on his tail and he’s heading straight for us,” Scott informs quickly.

“We have to find the others, we’re stronger together,” Stiles says urgently.

A wolf’s strangled cry rents through the air just as he says this and Scott gasps with a phantom pain, alpha instincts setting his eyes ablaze and transforming his face. He lets out his own feral howl before setting off in the direction of the pained cry.  
  
“Scott, wait!” Stiles yells after him, moves to follow him before realising that his best friend is already out of sight.

There’s another pained howl from the same direction, deep in the trees, and when it slowly fades away, a banshee’s grief-stricken scream tears through the woods right after it.

“No,” Kira mumbles, eyes wide and katana gripped tight.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathes in shock. Someone is dead, one of the pack is—Derek might be—

“Guys!” Isaac calls to them, footsteps stumbling but fast. Stiles sees the blood all over the pup’s abdomen, can’t figure out whether it’s someone else’s or Isaac’s.

Allison draws her bow, lets another arrow fly and gets a witch in the shoulder as she begins to move backwards towards the tree line.

They move slowly and surely, passing the tree line with Kira running to help Isaac and Allison covering them both as Stiles leads the way, senses open and alert.  
  
-x-  
  
The beta’s howl followed by Lydia’s scream makes Derek falter in his movements. One of the three possessed witches surrounding him manages to strike him in the ribs and another kicks at his legs making him stumble. He struggles to ignore the grief building in his chest. He may not be an alpha anymore but he will _always_ remember what it feels like to lose a beta. What it feels like to lose a pack member—to lose _family._

He swings an arm out, claws fully extended, teeth elongated and snarl ripping through his vocal chords. Unlike some people, anger never paralysed him and he relishes the renewed adrenalin that floods through his system. Strengthens him enough to reach out and punch his fist straight into the chest poised in front of him. Looks into the eyes of the witch whose heart he now holds in his hands. Doesn’t blink or show remorse as he squeezes tight and pulls it out of the man’s chest.

_That’s for whoever of my pack your people just killed,_ he thinks silently.

He whirls on the other two, ready for another battle, but he’s surprised to see them freeze in their movements. Their eyes glaze over as they look towards the direction of the clearing and with swift puppet like movements they start moving blindly towards it as if they were being summoned.

Derek doesn’t hesitate in following them.

-x-

_I misjudged you, Magician. Sigil jumping is a great skill harnessed only by the very well-trained._

Stiles spins around trying to see through the trees. Kira gives up on trying to hold Isaac up and sinks to the ground with him. Allison keeps her compound bow trained towards the shadows, the two witches hunting Isaac long disposed of.

“Why are you hiding, Circeris?” he calls into the darkness of the forest. “Surely, a demon goddess such as yourself can hold her own against one, lowly magician,” he taunts lightly, anger and frustration making his jaw clench.

There’s movement to his right and Stiles watches in terror as five possessed witches, faces distorted beyond recognition, emerge from the trees, Scott bound and swaying between them. There’s a knife floating at his throat and his eyes are flickering red and brown over and over again, like he can’t control his wolf.

“Jesus,” Stiles exclaims in a low voice, panic closing his throat. He takes a step forward, instinct making him want to help Scott somehow.

_**NO.**_ _You are to refrain from touching the true alpha,_ the voice orders.

His best friend’s sneakered toes are grazing the grass below him and it’s obvious that he’s not using his feet to move along with the five witches surrounding him.Stiles makes sure to stand motionless. Makes sure to keep Kira, Isaac and Allison behind him. He feels his hands shake with the fury of his spark. Feels it in the way his head spins and his vision sharpens.

Circeris releases a quiet sigh. _I grow weary of this game,_ she drawls.

“Alice,” he calls, once again trying to appeal to the young witch he once knew. How long had she been harbouring Circeris inside her? How much does the demon goddess know about him and his spark. She was still well hidden within the forest but he knew she had no trouble hearing him. Could he still save her? Save them all?  
  
“Alice, if you’re still in there, I—we really need your help right now.”

He moves closer to the centre of the open space, closer to Scott and the group of witches and further away from Kira, Allison and Isaac.

“Alice, please. You made a really bad mistake, but Malia and I, we can help you. Just fight her, you hear me? You think she’s planning to take you under her wing after this? You don’t think her essence will burn through your vessel in a second as soon as she lets it?! She’s bad for you, remember what we’ve learned!” he yells into the darkness.

**_“Enough!”_ **

The word echoes both inside his head and within the clearing. Not-Alice emerges from the trees, dressed in something so unlike the Alice he had been friends with. Her dark hair is stringy and thin, her eyes sunken and her complexion sallow. Stiles swallows his helplessness.

_I can’t save her._

But despite how weak the body looked, Stiles could feel the energy and power resting inside her. Could feel the tendrils of her magic wrapped around each person in the clearing who wasn’t part of his pack.

He forces himself to hold his ground as she approaches him, eyes black and soulless, air pungent with the stench of decay.

“Stiles.”

He cringes at the sound of his name leaving her tongue. She looks at him in consideration, studying him curiously. He feels the tendrils of her magic invade him and he can’t help it this time, he stumbles a step back, unnerved at the feeling of someone else – not Malia – inside his consciousness.

“Hmm, this is a surprise,” she drawls, attention momentarily diverted from Scott. Stiles watches the greed transform her face into a sweet smile. “You’ve yet to choose, don’t you? All that power still unaccounted for. You’re a Spark. I _like_ you.”

He responds with the false bravado he’s always had, voice strong and steady. “Then let the alpha go.”

She hums in amusement, looks past him for a second before meeting his eyes again.

“I don’t think so,” she sing songs. “I’ll have you both instead.”

“Stiles!” Allison yells from behind him as he hears the release of an arrow beyond him. Stiles turns just in time to see three, no two, possessed witches swiftly emerge from the trees and charge towards him. Allison’s arrow meets its mark with the third.

Four out of the five surrounding Scott converge over his best friend, hiding him from Stiles’ line of sight. Not-Alice screams in frustration, summons enough energy to make the hairs on his arms stand up and heaves it at Allison, Isaac and Kira who are thrown off balance and tumble like bowling pins.

Stiles clenches his teeth in anger, calls forth his spark with the force of his will and holds both arms out on either side of him, freezing both of the witches charging him with a strong, invisible force.

“No!” He hears Kira scream as the fifth witch that had been guarding Scott appears in front of her. Her katana clashes loudly with the sword that materialises in the witch’s hands. Isaac is unconscious behind her and Allison is still picking herself up off the ground.

Stiles turns his attention back to the two he held with his will and draws more power to him.

Without hands to draw a sigil, he glares both witches to submission and snarls quietly through clenched teeth, “ _Somnus.”_

Both witches drop like rag dolls, and Stiles rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck, feeling the familiar warmth of magic flood through him like a tidal wave.

The feeling of wrath that is growing inside him is new. It feels both monstrous and terribly powerful and he can’t quite gather his thoughts to focus on something good, and Stiles doesn’t have the will to fight it right now. Doesn’t have the _time._

As he continues to let the power rush through him, he can’t help but nestle a little into the welcoming energy engulfing him. Lets it flood his veins and wash away his fear.

He inhales a deep steadying breath, tracking all movement around him, all the time unaware of the way his eyes are switching.

Back and forth, and back and forth.

From warm hazel ringed with gold…

…to a solid, endless, black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update sooner but life likes to tear me a new one sometimes. I love this chapter even though it was so hard to proofread! I think I'm too much of a perfectionist, oh gosh, if you all knew how many times I did rewrites on this, you'd cry and even now I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I couldn't wait any longer to share! I hope you guys like it!

Derek’s picking his way blindly through shrubbery and foliage after losing track of the two witches he’d been trailing when they had suddenly disappeared into thin air. As he swipes at a particularly nasty branch, something pricks at his senses and he pauses quietly to scent the wind.

_Aiden._

Grief leaves a hollow pit in his stomach as he approaches the once virile young beta. Lydia’s heartfelt scream couldn’t have been more appropriate and he closes his eyes for a second, remembering that she still may not know who she’d screamed for.

“Fuck,” he breathes in frustration, hanging his head as he crouches beside his friend.

He’s just about to decide what to do when he hears a strong roar from beyond the trees.

_Scott._

Without a doubt Derek knows it’s his alpha, from the way his wolf responds to the sound of the call to the way his fangs try to escape his gums.

Derek turns back to Aiden, lays a quick hand on his ankle telling him silently that he will come back for him – for his body – before turning away and answering Scott’s call.

-x-

“Don’t! Don’t fucking touch him!” Stiles screams, focused on a furious Not-Alice standing face to face with Scott and holding a very sharp knife to his friend’s very fragile throat.

Scott’s body sways as Not-Alice continues to grip him hard with the force of her magic. His friend had managed to release an angry alpha’s roar, but Scott’s eyes are still switching uncontrollably, back and forth from brown to red, brown to red. Stiles hadn’t been able to tell if the roar was forced or done of his friend’s own volition.

Allison and Kira have their hands full with the rest of Circeris’ possessed minions and Stiles’ hands tremble and shake with the unsteadiness of an addict as his mind begins to play tricks on him.

Where are Derek and Aiden? Which beta did the witches kill in the woods? How much power was he using right now? What will happen if he loses control? What if he kills everyone?

“Look closely, Magician,” Not-Alice calls to him, voice no longer recognisable as more of the demon goddess floods through Alice’s decaying vessel. “I want you to watch carefully and see yourself fail.”

He doesn’t have any time left to panic as things start to happen all at once. Not-Alice brings a chalice up to Scott’s throat and moves to slice open his neck. Kira desperately calls his name as she struggles with the possessed witches, each endowed with the amplified strength of a demon goddess within them. Isaac is still down for the count, but seeing Not-Alice go for Scott’s throat, Allison straightens her stance, swiftly pulls an arrow from her quiver and fires it at Circeris.

Stiles doesn’t have a plan of action, all he knows is that he’s angry and powerful and he can’t let this bitch keep hurting his friends.

He moves in unison with Not-Alice as she drops the knife and chalice to the ground to throw a burst of magic at the arrow flying towards her with one hand and summons two dozen balls of fire with the other, swiftly hurling them in the direction of Kira, Isaac and Allison.

“No!” Stiles snarls as he lets the full force of his magic blast free. Hurls it towards his friends with one hand while sending out another full charge to block Circeris’ attack with the other.

He can hear an animalistic sound coming from somewhere and vaguely wonders if Scott’s okay, but then he realises that the sound isn’t coming from his best friend, it’s coming from his own ragged throat.

-x-

Derek sees the lights and hears the screams before he even breaches the tree line to the clearing _where Stiles died._

He picks up the pace, is running at full strength, ready for whatever is out there. But when he gets there he is frozen by an unbelievable sight.

Stiles is on one knee, hands outstretched in opposite directions, one towards the rest of the pack and one towards the demon goddess, ex-friend, Alice. The light is coming from the magic flowing out of his hands. One side mixing with the demon’s own magic, their powers crashing together in a giant show of fire and light, and the other feeding a dome shaped shield crackling with pure energy surrounding Kira, Isaac and Allison.

Derek recognises Scott - still bound and floating dazedly just behind the demon - and slowly tries to make his way towards the young alpha. He wonders what happened to the rest of the coven, finds no trace or scent of them as he edges his way around Stile and notices with a spike of alarm the kid’s eyes, fully engulfed in a dark, soulless shade, no traces of the golden lights he’d glimpsed earlier that day.

The demon is too engrossed in her battle with Stiles and Derek is able to untie Scott and take him by the shoulders, shake him a little. Scott’s eyes slow their flickering until he’s able to shake his head hard and squeeze his eyes shut, struggling to regain control of his wolf.

“Are you hurt?” Derek asks quietly. He keeps shifting his eyes back to the battle in front of him as he gives Scott a once over.

“I’m good,” Scott croaks.

-x-

_Feathers._

_Stiles holds his arm out, feels the white fluffiness of the feathers he’s levitating brush against the hairs on his arms._

_“Tell me how it feels,” Malia murmurs from behind him. They stand inside her room, the way they always do when it’s one of these lessons._

_“Soft, gentle—”_

_“—Not the feathers, idiot. Come on, be serious.”_

_Stiles grins at her irritation. Anything to get out of talking about how he feels when he uses. But he can only stall for so long and he knows for now, his time is up._

_“It feels like – quiet. It makes me calm. Sometimes it’s gentle, but other times it makes me feel like I’m screaming and screaming into an endless void. It’s…stable and unstable at the same time. When I stray too long away from my vessel, I feel like I could get lost and never return. I feel like I’m floating.”_

_“Do you know when it’s the Dark you’re using?” Malia questions quietly._

_Stiles’ forehead wrinkles with his thoughts._

_“Sometimes. The Light – it’s always warm and soft, it’s nice. And the Dark – It’s heavy – like – cold and crushing. But it’s also nice. I get confused because they both welcome me. They’re both…happy to bring me home. They both feel_ good _.”_

_He turns to Malia, and he knows that she can read the confusion written all over his face. “What do I do? You gotta tell me what to do.”_

_Malia sighs and steps forward calmly._

_“Listen to me, this is normal when one is coming into their own magic. The Light and the Dark – they’re like brother and sister. The line between them is so fine that they could be interchangeable. Their strength is equal in every way and it’s not about choosing one or the other, it’s about how you use them – your intentions. We call it a choice, but it’s more than that. You need to remember who you are, Stiles. Don’t lose yourself in what that spark connects you to. Trust what you know, what you feel. Listen to your instincts and what’s inside you. Because the Light and Dark aren’t inside you. Your spark connects you to them, but that’s all. They don’t make you who you are.”_

_“That is not going to help me when my magic goes off the rails, Malia!” he snaps in frustration, frowning at her cryptic speech._

_“Yes, it is. I swear to you, I’m not just saying these things to make you feel better. It’ll all be okay. You’re my starburst, remember? You can use the Dark, but you’re_ not _of the Dark,” she professes emphatically._

_He shakes his head at her, looks at the feathers now lying forgotten on the floor and hangs his head with doubt._

-x-

Derek slaps a hand on Scott’s back, eyes focused on Stiles and the demon. “We have to do something. What do we do?” he asks.

“I fucking know what to do,” Scott answers angrily as he strides forward and picks up the abandoned knife from the ground. Derek watches as Scott wraps a hand around the demon’s head and yanks it back almost violently. Before Derek can say anything, Scott drags the knife over her cleanly exposed neck with one quick swipe.

There’s no blood. Instead, an impossible screaming starts up and violent black smoke begins to pour out of Stiles’ ex-friend, Alice’s mouth.

Derek knows why Scott hadn’t hesitated. This thing isn’t Stiles’ friend anymore, he can smell it in the air and see it in her eyes.  
  
He hears Stiles release a pained groan, watches a look of struggle come across Stiles’ face before he seems to come to a decision as he quickly takes the shield back from Kira and the others and aims both his hands towards Not-Alice.

“Get back,” he snarls, looking at him and Scott with eyes as black as night.

Both of them are frozen in stunned shock and Stiles growls at them again, voice ragged and deep.

“I said get back!”

Derek and Scott grab at each other’s shoulders and arms, quickly hauling each other backwards towards the trees.

The dome of energy rematerialises around Stiles, Alice, and the violent, black smoke, trapping them inside a thick transparent wall crackling with static.

“Jesus,” he hears Scott mutter from beside him. Derek doesn’t say anything, too busy anxiously watching Stiles and his black, black eyes.

There’s a guttural chanting coming from Stiles in a voice Derek doesn’t recognise and he wonders if this is what had happened the other night. Asks it out loud to Scott.

“No man, this is _not_ what happened last time,” Scott exclaims.

Inside the dome is all chaos, wind causing debris to whizz past Stiles and the demon, swiping at their hair and clothes and making the flimsy material flap wildly around them. Stiles’ arms are ramrod straight, fingers spread like claws, voice hoarse and raw, face frozen in a pained grimace.  
  
Derek doesn’t know how long they stand there for, but finally the howling screams and the chanting subsides and the dark smoke that was the demon quickly dissipates into the walls of Stiles’ dome. Stiles keeps the dome intact and Derek watches as he raises his hands wearily and starts blindly drawing golden symbols into the air.

When Stiles finishes, he lowers his arms and stares vacantly into the space where the black smoke had been. Derek watches as Stiles shifts his other knee to the ground and sways a little. Alice’s body had fallen in front of him as the demon had left it, and Stiles leans over it tenderly, hands caressing over head and shoulders. A trail of black smoke leaves his hands as he runs them over the rest of the body. It swirls around the limbs and seeps into the skin until red sparks like ember begin to materialise from inside it and engulf it until there’s nothing left but ash and smoke.

And then there’s silence, like a vacuum had submerged the forest. The dome retracts back into Stiles’ hands and it’s like a rubber band snapping back into place, the way he drops to all fours and starts to shiver and shake.

Derek and Scott both rush forward.

“Don’t touch him!” a voice screams from behind them. They both skid to a halt a few paces away from Stiles, still racked with tremors and covered in a light film of sweat.

Derek looks back to see Malia, hunched over with hands on her knees, barely supporting her weight. His wolf eyes detect the remnants of a gold symbol already dissipating into the air.

“Don’t touch him,” she gasps again, eyes commanding them to listen to her. “He didn’t finish it.”

“What? What do you mean?” Derek scowls.

“The exorcism, he didn’t finish it! He’s still got a hold on Circeris and the Magic,” she explains as she straightens up and walks towards Stiles slowly. “He’s not himself.”

As she finishes talking, Stiles finally looks up at them from his place on the ground.

“She’s right,” he slurs drunkenly. “I’m not myself.” And his eyes are an infinite abyss with just two tiny pinpricks of gold in their centres.

Derek’s about to protest how harmless Stiles actually is when his ears are suddenly assaulted by the sound of a banshee’s tortured scream followed by the sinking of his already grief stricken heart.

Scott gasps beside him. His eyes are trained at something beyond Stiles as he stumbles forward and starts to run towards the three people huddled on the far side of the clearing.  
  
-x-  
  
Stiles may not be of the supernatural canine type but the Magic is still deep inside him, and he hears every, single word.

_“It’s okay, it's okay, it's perfect. I'm in the arms of my first love. The first person I ever loved. The person I'll always love. I love you, Scott. Scott McCall.”_

_“I-I can’t take your pain.”_

_“That’s because it doesn’t hurt.”_

He heaves a tortured breath and hangs his head, tries to ignore the pounding agony inside his chest at the sound of Allison dying in Scott’s arms.

Not fast enough or strong enough! Couldn’t save them—couldn’t save them all.

You _could_ have saved them all.

He feels it all the way to the depths of his being. The loss, the grief beginning to grow. He feels it and he knows it’s his fault. The way Isaac’s breath hitches as he finally comes to – realises what’s happening and starts mumbling a steady stream of _no, no, no, no, no._

The way Stiles’ ears register the pained howling that starts off in the distance – _Ethan –_ echoing through the trees. And he knows that Lydia knows who she had screamed for that first time.

And who she had screamed for the second time.

“Stiles,” Malia murmurs, dropping to her knees in front of him and gently Flashing him every single hug they’d ever shared.

He turns away, blocks out the Flashes like he’d never done before. There’s a clamouring inside him that he can’t explain. His connection to the universe is open and screaming and there’s an asylum in his head that makes his insides spin.

“Stiles, this is not your fault,” Malia rasps, voice cracking but gaze steady.  
  
-x-  
  
Derek watches the scene unfold in front of him. Stiles and Malia both on their knees, Stiles with his head turned towards the ground and Malia ducking hers to try and catch his gaze.

She reaches out, tries to take his hand but he pulls it away without letting her make contact.

“Don’t touch me,” he mutters, voice low and raw.

“Stiles—” She tries again.  
  
“I said don’t!” he yells, this time pulling his whole body away from the both of them and violently rising to his feet.

And this time Derek takes a step forward, because even if he’s never seen him like this, he’s not afraid of Stiles.

“Stiles,” Derek calls.

And finds no recognition in the eyes that briefly meet his own before Stiles turns his back on the both of them.

The voice that reaches Derek’s ears is almost unrecognisable as it makes the hairs on his arms tingle with the force of its command.  
  
“Stay. Away.” It snarls, before Stiles disappears with a flurry of black smoke.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys guess how this ends?? Is my plot making predictable?? Let me know what you all think! And for those who've been around since the beginning, thank you!!

“I can find him,” Malia declares softly from where she’s standing beside Derek.

“Thought your powers were exhausted?” he asks, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d listened in on _that_ whole phone call.

“My mom’s helping me out,” she replies, pulling a pendant out from under her shirt and waving it at him. “It’s set with topaz and obsidian. It’ll help me out for at least a couple more hours.”

Derek looks towards where Scott, Kira and Isaac are gathered around Allison.

“We need to go now. I won’t be able to trace him for much longer,” She murmurs, eyes focused on where Stiles had last been standing.

_“Go,”_ Scott’s voice tells him from across the clearing. The alpha looks up and meets his eyes with a grief stricken expression. _“If there’s anyone who can talk him down from Phoenix Force Jean Grey, it’s you.”_

He’s not familiar enough with X-men to know what the analogy means, let alone what Scott means by _it’s you,_ so all he does is nod once in silent acknowledgement.

Malia grips the pendant as she scrawls a symbol through the air and then holds her hand out to him. Derek looks down at it, hesitates for a second before finally taking her hand. She’s already looking at him when he looks back up at her face.  
  
“Hold on tight.”  
  
-x-  
  
It’s like spinning and vertigo all at once, and Derek’s never been fond of roller coasters and things like that, so when they reappear into the real world, he stumbles forward and almost faceplants. Malia’s ready for it, of course, and is gripping his hand hard. He envies the way she ‘lands’ without losing her balance.

“It takes some getting used to,” she murmurs, already distracted. “What…is this place?” she continues, dropping his hand and taking a few spinning steps as she pans her eyes around.

Derek takes a deep breath and lets his senses adjust. Is surprised by the barrage of familiar scents that hits him through the darkness. _What the…_

“I used to live here. This is my loft,” he explains, confusion making his words come out slow. “I don’t—why—”

“Did something important happen here? What’s important about this place?” Malia asks him quickly.

“Uh, I’m not sure. It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Derek offers, not quite sure about what to say.

_A lot of things happened here,_ he thinks, recalling every interaction he’s ever had with Stiles at his old place.

“Like, since Stiles was in high school ‘a while’?” Malia asks, looking at him thoughtfully.

“Yeah, definitely,” he nods.

Malia continues to look at him, top teeth chewing on her bottom lip pensively.

“Huh,” she exclaims.

“What?” he retaliates with frustration in his tone. He doesn’t appreciate the way she’s looking at him knowingly when he himself has no idea what the heck is going on.

Malia sighs patiently.

“Witches are taught at a very young age to learn their weaknesses and their strengths, both inside and out. When one finds oneself in a particulary…difficult bind – like this one – one of the steps we are taught to take is to find somewhere, something or someone we can draw strength from. It’s one of the first few things I taught him. And it looks like this place is one of Stiles’ _Somewheres,”_ Malia concludes thoughtfully.

Derek lets the information sink in, tries to categorise all the different questions and theories that begin to pop up in his thoughts.

“What does that even—”

Malia shakes her head and raises her arms in a surrendering gesture.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know.”

Derek directs another scowl at her but he’s starting to realise that Stiles’ new friend isn’t easily intimidated as she raises an eyebrow at him and then glances away in dismissal.

“Look, when we find him, this is what’s going to happen. He still needs to finish the exorcism and he’s still got a hold on the Magic so the channel’s going to be wide open. I need you to understand that he’s going to be drawing from the universe, okay, Derek? It’s going to be like he’s really, really high. He’s himself but not himself, y’know? He knows he’s getting drawn further away, but it won’t matter to him and he won’t care because it feels _good_. Stiles is going to want to _go._

Circeris is one of the most powerful demon goddesses in existence. Her continuous consumption of the fountain of youth – or, y’know, werewolves’ blood – has made her impossibly strong. The amount of magic and energy Stiles needs to exorcise her is probably equal to a small galaxy – and I know that’s hard to believe, but I told you guys he’s a starburst! He has access to something that seems almost impossible, and that’s why he’s afraid. I know he’s afraid, I’ve always known, but I thought he had more time to work through his fear. To realise that he can handle this, that he’s strong enough. But now, I don’t—Stiles is either going to succeed or…kill himself if we don’t try to help him,” she explains with worry in her tone.

His heartbeat stutters at her last few words, and all of a sudden he knows that he would do whatever it takes to keep from returning to the pack with another dead body in his arms.

“What can I do?”

“I’ve talked him down a few times before but that was with an open channel to his thoughts, when I could show him what I felt. He’s never blocked me out like this before,” Malia murmurs.

“So in other words, you don’t know,” Derek states, throwing a stoic expression at the young witch.

She sighs at him irritably.

“Look, I can talk him through the rest of the exorcism, I can even try to talk him down enough until he’s more like himself. But there is nothing I’ve taught or said to him before - or can say now - that will help him trust in what’s inside him. And the only way he can harness the power of the universe is to trust in what he knows in himself and find that which can give him control.”

“He needs an anchor,” Derek murmurs pensively.

“Exactly!” Malia exclaims.

Derek thinks back on the conversation he’d had with Stiles before the kid had surprised him with a kiss and Derek had panicked and run away.

He knows why Stiles is afraid.

Getting possessed by the Nogitsune had made him doubt himself, made him think of himself as weak. And he knows that even after so many years, Stiles had never really fully recovered from the self-doubt or that feeling of being the weakest. He knows, because sometimes he’d see it in the way Stiles would hunch his shoulders in uncertainty against a particularly persistent supernatural problem, or the way he looked at Scott when he knew his best friend wasn’t watching. Derek knows it in the way he sometimes catches Stiles running his fingers across ancient books about demonic possession and the marks they leave behind. He knows it in the way he would sometimes catch Stiles with this strange look on his face as he sits back at pack meetings and get-togethers – separated from the others but present at the same time.

_“They’re fighting inside me, Derek. They’re fighting for my vessel, I can feel it. If I have what Malia says I have, the power of the universe? – How am I supposed to control that?”_

_“Hey, twisting and untwisting, remember? You’re stronger than this, you hear? And you’ve got Scott, the pack, you’ve got Malia, and your friends in college, and your dad…and me. I’m here too. Whatever you need, I’m right here.”_

Derek blinks the memory away and turns to Malia.

“You do what you have to do to get rid of Circeris, I’ll handle Stiles.”

Malia flashes him a small, relieved smile.

“Great! I was hoping you’d say that because he’s right behind you,” she informs quietly, eyes focused on something over his right shoulder.

Derek turns calmly, sees nothing for a second until twin gold dots appear in the darkness and blink once at him.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Stiles replies.

There’s a deep, rasping quality in his voice that is new, but Derek can’t pick out anything else that’s different about him because he keeps his place in the shadows and away from them.

So Derek moves forward a little and tries to catch sight of Stiles as he speaks.

“Listen, I’m sorry I left earlier, at the house. I shouldn’t have run.”

“Where’s Malia?” Stiles asks, not reacting to anything Derek had just said. Derek’s brows twinge with worry because he knows Malia’s only a step behind him so why can’t Stiles see her?

Malia steps forward and responds to Stiles.

“I’m here. Don’t let her hide me from you, Stiles, I’m right here.”

Derek’s brow furrows further at Malia’s response.

“It’s Circeris,” she murmurs quietly. “ The longer Stiles holds onto her, the longer she can play tricks in his mind until he can’t tell the difference between real or fake. He needs to finish the exorcism.”

“Why didn’t he do it back at the clearing?” Derek questions.

Malia throws a quick glance at him before focusing back on the only part of Stiles she can see. The gold pinpricks of his eyes.

“Sometimes, when you’re using a lot of magic, it’s hard to focus on everything you need to do. It’s hard to tell right from wrong, Light or Dark. Things get jumbled inside your head and you’re reduced to the most basic of instincts. He didn’t finish the exorcism because his intentions - the most _basic_ of them - were Dark. He wanted to _kill_ Circeris, but not because he wanted to protect his friends, he just wanted to kill Circeris, period. That intent is of the Dark and that’s why he stopped. He was unable to focus on an intention of the Light. And with magic this big, he needs to be careful because it will be an instantaneous choice, whatever his intentions are. Right, Stiles?”

Derk takes a deep breath and looks back at Stiles still hidden in the shadows.

“Stiles, I know it’s still you in there. Come out, will you? We know you won’t hurt us…”  
  
-x-

_I wish for you to desist your attempts to see your witch friend, Magician. You will not win against my strength._

The demon goddess’ voice inside his head hurts the veins in his eyes but Stiles doesn’t budge, mentally shoves a fist sized spark into the black cloud trapped in the back of his mind before violently ripping off the glamour she had draped around Malia.

_Shut up,_ he thinks in reply, as he steps out of the shadows with arms loosely crossed over his chest.

There’s a small flutter in his heartbeat when he nears Derek, and Stiles squashes it immediately, worried that the demon goddess inside him will pick up on his feelings.

“What are you doing here?” he demands in a low tone.

“I’m here to help you,” Derek replies calmly.

“Allison and Aiden are dead,” Stiles reminds him, voice cold. “Go home, Derek.”

The older man gives his head a slight shake and takes another step forward.

“Not without you.”

Circeris stirs inside him again as Derek approaches him and Stiles senses it as soon as she detects the difference in Derek’s blood.

_Werewolf?!_ She snarls.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut as the veins in his forehead pulse with the pain of the demon goddess’s excited exclamation. _If it is not the true alpha I can have, then this one shall do._

Stiles gasps. Fear for Derek and Malia makes him panic and he instinctively pulls on his connection to the universe and throws a blast of magic outwards until it surrounds him in a dome of solid energy.

So now he’s trapped inside it and Derek and Malia are locked out.  
  
-x-

The both of them are thrown backwards as the dome of magical energy hits the ground, and Derek and Malia bounce against the opposite wall of the loft before falling to the floor.

“Stay away!” Stiles screams at them, arms held outwards, power pulsing from his hands as he continues to strengthen the wall of the dome surrounding him.

“What the hell was that?” Derek grumbles to himself as Malia lets out a stream of colourful expletives.

It takes him a while to register the jumble of words rushing out of Stiles’ mouth.

“She knows! She knows what he is! Malia, why did you bring him?! Get him out of here! GET HIM OUT!”

Derek can smell the remnants of panic pouring out of Stiles in waves. His hands are trembling and there’s an agitation in the way his chest heaves with every breath and the way his body shifts from foot to foot.

Malia rushes forward.

“No. No! He can help you, he’s here to help you, okay?! You can do this, you’re already halfway there. Listen to me, focus on the Light. Focus on why you chose to fight her in the first place and _why_ you’re protecting them!”

It doesn’t take Derek long to decipher Malia’s words. She wants him to remember his friends. Wants him to remember the people who make Stiles who he is.

Derek knows better than to reach out and touch the wall of energy but he gets as close as he can to it and feels the hairs on his arms stand up and the hackles on his wolf rise. Malia is right beside him, still yelling encouragement to Stiles.

“Come on! Come on, concetrate on my voice! You’ve got it right this time, you’re already halfway there. Stiles, look at me. Hey, look at me!” Malia shifts over a little, pushes Derek out of the way so she can meet Stiles’ black eyes. Her voice is shaky but calm. “I’ll do it with you, okay? We’ll say it together.”

Derek watches as Stiles seems to finally focus his gaze on Malia.

And Malia nods slowly and starts chanting the unfamiliar words.

_“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…”_

Derek’s ears perk up as Stiles’ voice joins in with Malia’s. It sounds like something feral is trying to claw its way out of his throat. Their chanting intensifies and he feels a heaviness in the air that has nothing to do with how the loft has been sealed for years. Light continues to stream out of Stiles’ hands, but now there’s black smoke intermingling with the brightness, twisting themselves around his arms.

He sees Stiles’ hands begin to tremble and Derek doesn’t know how he knows that it’s because Stiles is losing focus on his _intention of the Light._ Instinct makes Derek step forward and start throwing his own encouragements to Stiles.

“Hey. Hey! I’m right here, you hear me?” He declares. “For as long as I’ve known you, as much of a pain in the ass you were – and sometimes still are – I know that you’ve always done everything you can to protect your friends and family. You’re not weak, or evil, or Dark, okay? And whenever you start doubting yourself about that, just think about everyone who loves you. About everyone who’s alive because of you. Take your strength from that, okay? You protect them because you love them and that’s _good!_ There is nothing more of the Light than that. It’s who you are, Stiles – who you will always be. This is the core of you and that’s why the people you’re surrounded with come to you and stay. And I know you’re afraid right now, but there is _nothing_ to be afraid of. Twisting and untwisting, remember?”

Stiles has paused in his chanting, attention focused on Derek and his words. He’s pretty sure the kid has never heard him speak so much in such a short time before, but this is important. Stiles had drifted closer as he spoke and would be almost toe to toe with Derek if it weren’t for the crackling wall of magic separating them. His mind flashes back to the last time they were like this, and he remembers looking at Stiles’ lips and wanting so badly to kiss them.

“Think about them because you’re not alone, you’re never alone. Scott, your dad, Malia, the pack…and me.”

Derek can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realise it. Thinks back on all the times their friends had teased them mercilessly, spoken to him with teasing tones and knowing looks.

Scott’s words from the clearing come back to him then, and suddenly he figures it out.

_If there’s anyone who can talk him down from Phoenix Force Jean Grey, it’s you._

“Stiles,” he whispers, looking directly at him through the slight glaze of the force field. He doesn’t flinch from the disturbing gold pinpricks of Stiles’ gaze.

“You’ve got me,” he says, “I’m right here.”

Stiles tilts his head a little like he’s considering Derek’s words.  
  
-x-

Circeris thrashes wildly inside him, throwing everything she’s got at the cage of energy he’d thrown around her at the same time he’d fabricated the dome. _Release me and I will drink him dry!_

Stiles sends Derek a small smile.  
  
_Go to hell,_ he tells the demon goddess.  
  
-x-  
  
Derek watches as Stiles resumes the chanting. Malia moves around him again and starts drawing symbols on the ground as she keeps one eye on Stiles.

The weight in the air gets heavier but Derek doesn’t falter in his stance, he stays right where he is - where Stiles can see him.

He watches as an invisible wind picks up inside the dome, dust swirling around Stiles in little tornadoes. Stiles’ chest heaves with each one of his breaths until he screams the last few ancient words and a cloud of black smoke explodes out of his mouth accompanied with the kid’s tortured scream.

“Stiles!” Derek cries, panic lacing his tone. This does _not_ look painless!

Malia grabs his arm, squeezes it reassuringly.

“Almost,” she murmurs.

The violent black cloud hits the top of Stiles’ dome and spreads out all over its surface. It writhes like it’s alive and Derek stares on in horrified fascination.

As the last of the demon goddess leaves Stiles’ mouth, Stiles raises his arms and breathes a final word with a sigh.

_Lumos._

The black smoke gets sucked into the walls of the dome, keeps filtering into it until Stiles disappears behind a wall of darkness. And then a stream of white light pierces through it, and another, and then another. The wind that had been swirling around Stiles is set free and turns into a tornado, and Derek turns his head away and shields his eyes from the flying debris and blinding light. There’s a roaring sound that comes with the wind and the light, and everything around them is loud and violent and deafening.

Until suddenly it’s not.

The silence in the loft is almost eerie.

Derek looks back just in time to see the magic retract into Stiles’ trembling hands. He lowers his arms as he stares at Derek and Malia, breathing hard. The blackness in his gaze disappears with his next blink, and Derek finds himself looking into warm, hazel eyes.

They stare at each other for what feels like a second and an eternity at the same time, and then Stiles lets out a quiet sigh.

“The stars are shining,” he garbles drunkenly and then sways precariously to one side, stumbles, and starts to fall.

“No, come back!” Malia cries out at the same time that Derek lunges forward and catches him. He sinks to the ground with Stiles cradled in his arms and Malia crowds them both, grasping Stiles’ face with both hands.

Derek is confused by the urgency that’s spiking in Malia’s scent until the words she’s murmuring registers in his ears.

“Don’t look at the stars, come back! I know it feels good but you have to come back!”  
  
-x-


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's almost finisheeeedddd...*insert sad face because I'm so attached to this fic* - And I love all you readers! Thank you for sticking around, you guys are the best =) 
> 
> This chapter makes me feel warm. <3

Derek recalls instantly what Malia had said when they’d first got to the loft.

_He knows he’s getting drawn further away, but it won’t matter to him and he won’t care because it feels good. Stiles is going to want to go._

“What’s happening to him?” he questions quickly.

Malia glances at him with watery eyes and shakes her head in distress. “The longer he stays away from his body, the less of a connection he’ll have until he can no longer return.”

“Can he hear us? Can you talk to him?!”

Malia stills both hands on Stiles’ face and briefly closes her eyes. Her brows furrow as a tear escapes one corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek. When she opens them again, there’s a hurt in her gaze that makes him feel desperate.

“He’s not blocking me anymore,” she murmurs. “He says he’s sorry. That it’s his fault that they’re gone.”

_Aiden and Allison._  
  
Derek grips Stiles tighter to him, tells himself that he’s imagining the lack of colour on Stiles’ face.  
  
“Well tell him to stop being an idiot and come back!”

“I’m trying, okay! I don’t have that kind of influence on him…” she explains, as she offers him a knowing look.

-x-

Stiles greets the light of star after star with soft brushes of his being. They’re warm and comforting and he lets himself drift through them endlessly.

There’s a Flash in his consciousness, and it’s a vision of Malia’s arm and hand reaching out to him from her point of view. The two of them are standing on campus and he’s looking at an image of himself, bag slung over his shoulder and reaching out to the hand waiting for him. His mouth moves soundlessly and smiles, _it’s gonna be okay._

And he remembers that day.

_“What is it that I always say?” She coaxes teasingly as she shifts her textbooks with her other arm._

_“It’s gonna be okay,” he recites dutifully as he grins at her, ambles forward and fits his palm into her waiting hand._

His magic whisps freely around him and away from him. They grasp at the warmth of the sun and weave through the stars at the same time. He realises that he doesn’t remember when he’d last felt the magnetic pull of the earth’s sky. He doesn’t know how long he’s been drifting so free and unhindered.

_Stay._

It’s barely a whisper on the wind, a murmur through the sky, but he hears it and it makes him pause because he’s never heard this voice in the magic before.

_Stay._

The sound is a caress that grasps him in its invisible arms. It swirls around him, travels with him readily but emanates reluctance as well.

_Stiles, stay._

And this time his consciousness instinctively pauses as another Flash bursts into his senses. It’s Derek on his knees, rocking back and forth with Stiles cradled in his arms. This is the first he’s ever seen this Flash and immediately he knows that this is what Malia, his sister witch, is seeing right now. He marvels at how he and Derek seem to fit together. His head is nestled on Derek’s shoulder and settled into the crook of sourwolf’s neck. Derek’s arms are wrapped around him protectively and he likes how safe this makes him feel.

The Flash absorbs all of his attention until his consciousness is no longer reaching forward and outwards into the magic. Instead, it fixes its focus onto the scene Malia is still Flashing to him – studying it, enraptured by it. Stiles isn’t bothered by how the body in Derek’s arms lies so still, but he notices the trembling in Derek’s fingers, the unusual agitation in Derek’s movements. The way Derek hoists the body even closer to his own, head bending down so that his mouth is right next to the boy’s ear.

_You can’t go, okay? You can’t because I’m here._

Stiles sends a sliver of his spark towards the Derek in the Flash, sees it manifest in a whisp of silver energy swirling around and around until it reaches Derek and dissipates right through him.

_Are you really gonna leave me here? After what just started between us?_

Stiles feels a stab of remorse when Derek’s face crumbles with distress as he grips the boy in his arms even closer to him.

_I’m here. **I’m** the reason you should always come back. You hear me?_  
  
_I’m right here._  
  
-x-  
  
“Stay,” he begs brokenly again, whispering it to Stiles and holding him like he’d never done before.

Derek doesn’t feel the panic this time around, doesn’t feel unprepared, doesn’t feel afraid. He ignores the blue tinge to the kid’s dry, cracked lips as he lowers his mouth the rest of the way and finally returns Stiles’ kiss.

He waits.

And he waits.

And when he doesn’t get a response Derek feels the devastation rip through his chest. He doesn’t release the sob stuck in his throat but a primal huff escapes his mouth anyway, and he clutches Stiles to him and buries his face in Stiles’ shirt. Keeps rocking him back and forth.

His wolf howls desperately inside him and his gums ache with the need to release his fangs. His fingers, now claws, catch at Stiles’ clothes as they continue to clutch at him, and Derek can’t help but throw his head back, unable to do anything but let the beta shift happen as grief overtakes him and transforms itself into a long tortured howl.

As he lets it fade off into the darkness, Derek senses movement from Malia and then hears her release a small, surprised gasp.

“Derek!”

There’s a slight shift of muscle in his arms and he looks down just in time to see Stiles’ eyes open. The kid blinks dazedly a few times, eyes moving back and forth like he’s struggling to focus. Derek bursts into action, lowers Stiles to the floor and cups his cheek in one hand while cradling the back of his head with the other.  
  
“Hey, hey, you’re back. You’re okay, it’s okay, you’re back,” he murmurs.

Stiles lifts a hand up and weakly grips Derek’s wrist.

“Did I get her?” he slurs, voice still magic-drunk.

He and Malia both huff a relieved laugh.

“Yeah, you got her.”  
  
-x-  
  
Stiles and Malia sleep for days.

Deaton reassures them that this behaviour is completely normal, especially after using so much magic all at once, but when Malia wakes up after two days with an appetite big enough to eat him out of his own kitchen and Stiles stays asleep, Derek can’t help but worry a little.

“He’s fine, I promise, he just needs another day or two,” Malia reports around a mouthful of food as he and Kira sit at the dining table with her and watch her eat.

“How do you even know that?” Kira asks curiously.

Malia taps a finger to her head and swallows her mouthful. “It’s a subconscious thing. Stiles is still learning so…let’s just say he needs some more practice on keeping his thoughts to himself,” she explains cryptically.

There’s a sound at the door and Malia and Kira both turn to watch Scott come through it and join them at the table.

“How’s Lydia, and Isaac?” Derek asks the young alpha.

“Sad,” Scott responds quietly. “Isaac’s gonna need a little time and Ethan and Danny left for Santa Cruz this morning with Aiden’s ashes. How’s Stiles?”

“Still sleeping,” Kira answers her boyfriend sending him a supportive smile as she rubs his arm soothingly. Scott nods.  
  
Malia rises out of her seat, walks into the kitchen and starts washing her plate.

“You don’t need to do that,” Derek calls after her.  
  
“Dude,” she retorts, sounding unnervingly like Stiles. “It is the least I can do after taking me in for the past few days, seriously. I would still be crashed out in the woods if it weren’t for you carrying me half the time on the way back here.”

Derek trades a look with Stiles’ friend, senses the undercurrent of sincerity masked by her lighthearted tone.

“Any time,” he replies. And he means it, because he knows she’d given almost everything she had – and more – to help him bring Stiles back from the ether that night, and then jump them back to the vicinity of the house.  
  
Malia finishes drying her plate and walks back past them, headed for the front door. “Right now though, I have to get back. My mom’s probably going crazy.”  
  
Scott turns to look at her. “Uh, do you need a ride or something?” he asks with a baffled tone.  
  
Malia pulls something out of her back pocket and waves her mother’s amulet at them from where she’s standing. “Nope,” she exclaims as she proceeds to draw a symbol into the air in front of her and promptly disappears from sight.  
  
Scott shakes his head after her. “Still cool,” he mumbles.  
  
-x-  
  
Awareness comes back to him in phases.

The first time Stiles comes to, it’s only for a few seconds and it’s with Scott looking at him from the armchair beside the bed, leaning forward with elbows resting on his knees.  
  
“That’s it dude, you can do it,” his best friend coaxes softly.  
  
Stiles feels like his head is full of cotton but it doesn’t take him long to remember why he feels so sad.

“I’m sorry, bro,” he murmurs quietly.  
  
“Hey, it’s not your…” Scott replies, but Stiles doesn’t hear the rest of it, already falling back into slumber with the vision of his best friend shaking his head at him.

The next time he comes to, it’s Lydia sitting by his bedside. She’s staring blankly out the window on the other side of the room and doesn’t notice. Stiles feels like maybe there’s less cotton in his brain this time around because he’s able to move his arm and touch the feminine fingers resting beside his hand.  
  
Lydia turns to him and offers him a sad, thoughtful smile.  
  
“Show me,” he tells her. Because if there’s one thing he could do for his friend, it’s to share with her the visions that make a banshee feel the most isolated, and the grief that comes with them.  
  
A tear escapes the corner of Lydia’s eye and she takes his hand in hers and lifts it to her face, rubbing her cheek against the backs of his fingers once, twice.

“When you’re better,” she murmurs softly.  
  
He doesn’t like her answer but can’t do more than frown as he feels the pull of sleep once more. Before he lets it take him all the way under, he gives Lydia’s hand a small, gentle squeeze.

 

_Stay._

The voice in the magic fades into the wind as Stiles drifts back into consciousness. He’s on his side this time and the first thing he notices from the window he’s facing is that it’s dark. Late evening. The time of night when everything is still, even the wind. He takes a second to breathe a little, takes inventory of his body. His vessel.  
  
It doesn’t take him long to feel the weakness in his limbs and the heaviness in his heart. His spark is but a little flicker, still dangerously small, but it’s there and he can’t help but sigh with relief. He shifts onto his back and doesn’t have enough energy to be surprised when he finally lays eyes on who’s occupying the armchair where Scott and Lydia had been.

“You’re here,” he murmurs with a small smile.

“I’m here,” Derek replies, watching him with a soft, tender expression.

“I thought I dreamt—I was dreaming…” Stiles stutters sleepily.

“No,” Derek whispers, leaning forward and taking his hand. “You weren’t dreaming.”

Stiles nods at him, gladder than the gladdest of them all but still too tired for anything. He moves to smother a wide yawn but aborts the motion halfway, grabs the comforter and lifts it instead.

“Then come,” he mumbles, gesturing with his other hand for Derek to join him. “Think I’ve kicked you out of your own bed long enough.”

“Stiles,” Derek protests slowly, hesitation thick in his tone.

“Talk later, promise. Sleep first, now,” he answers disjointedly.

Derek exhales softly before finally reaching down and pulling off his boots. He takes the comforter from Stiles’ still raised (and now trembling) arm, and slips into the bed beside him.

Stiles doesn’t wait for him to settle and instead rolls back onto his side, facing the window once more. When he finally lets himself sink back into the abyss of deep, healing sleep, there’s a small content smile on his face because it’s with the feeling of Derek’s warmth against his back and Derek’s arms wrapped tightly around him.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s a dream and Derek knows it, but it’s also a memory. One that he’s never looked at from this point of view before.

 

_Stiles is the last one to leave with pack night having ended a good few hours ago._

_They stand in the kitchen, Stiles’ long lean form resting back against the bar and Derek drying dishes beside him. Things always felt more peaceful between them at this time of night. With no other company but each other._

_“You sure you don’t wanna just crash on the couch?” Derek asks easily, throwing a sidelong glance at Stiles._

_“Nah, dude, it’s cool,” Stiles pauses for a second and Derek hears the slight trip in his heartbeat as Stiles continues to speak. “Actually, I’ve, uh, I’ve got a date, tomorrow, with a guy…” his voice cracks with the last word._

_“Oh, okay.” Derek turns to him as he wipes off his hands with the dishtowel. Stiles is watching him with a look on his face that’s half nervous and half watchful._

_Derek smirks with sympathy. “What, you nervous or something? I’ve never dated guys but I’m sure they’re a helluva lot easier to read than girls.”_

_He thinks Stiles’ expression falls a little but the kid shakes it off almost immediately, and Derek brushes it off when Stiles lets out a small, huffed laugh and crosses his arms over his chest._

_“Yeah, you’d think so, huh,” Stiles replies, sounding a little incredulous. Derek feels like he’s missing something and raises his brows at Stiles as he hangs the dishtowel up by the sink._

_“What?” he asks._

_Stiles hides his smile by lowering his head. He shakes it a little and mumbles a reply. “Nuthin, dude. I gotta get going,” he adds with a sigh._

_Derek watches as Stiles pushes away from the breakfast bar and heads towards the front door._

_“You’re sure you don’t want to stay? Easier to drive back in broad daylight,” he coaxes again._

_Stiles turns back to him with his hand poised against the door, and this time there’s a look on his face that Derek can’t quite place._

_“I, uh, I better go,” Stiles responds quietly, flashing him a thoughtful smile._

_“Okay,” Derek answers, “hey, good luck tomorrow on your date.”_

_Stiles shakes his head and huffs out another laugh. “Thanks, sourwolf,” he throws over his shoulder, as Stiles shuts the door behind him._

 

The sun is warm on Derek’s face as he slowly drifts back to consciousness. Immediately, he’s aware of eyes on him and he opens his own to meet Stiles’ sleepy, watchful gaze. There’s something different about him this time. His skin has lost a little of its sallow tinge and the grey in his lips has faded considerably.  
  
“You were dreaming,” Stiles whispers, sunbeams illuminating his skin as he offers Derek a small, tender smile.  
  
“Could you see it?” Derek whispers back, curious.  
  
Stiles shakes his head. “Just…feelings,” he murmurs.  
  
“What did you feel?”  
  
“You wanted me to stay,” Stiles answers quietly.  
  
Derek watches him tenderly, thinking back to that moment in his dream. Because Stiles is right, even when he hadn’t been aware of it, he’d wanted for Stiles to stay. Derek moves to stroke a hand down Stiles’ face.

“ _Don’t_ do that again,” he chastises softly, referring to the events of the other night.  
  
Stiles’ lips twitch with his apologetic smile.  
  
-x-  
  
When Stiles is finally strong enough to make his own way into the dining room and sit at the table, there’s no shortage of pancakes, bacon and eggs, and various pastries and muffins waiting for him.  
  
“Half of this ended up in Malia’s stomach last time,” Derek offers by way of explanation. Stiles hides his smile with a duck of his head. He thinks that Derek may just be exaggerating a little so that he can give Stiles every kind of breakfast food he’s ever loved, but that’s okay.

He’s half way through his second serving of pancakes, Derek sitting across from him with his coffee, content to just watch him eat, when Scott comes through the front door with Kira.

It only takes Stiles a second of seeing the look on Scott’s face to know that his friend is about to tell him something he isn’t going to like.  
  
He swallows the bite he’s got in his mouth, feels the solidity of it travel slowly down his throat and land in his stomach like a piece of lead.  
  
“Just say it, bro,” he encourages quietly.  
  
He already knows it’s about Allison. Hers is the only presence still lingering in the back of his mind. He hasn’t told anyone that he’s considered reaching out his magic to try and find her essence somehow, even though his spark is still very much on the weak side.

There are things non-mages just don’t need to know.  
  
“Chris and Isaac are gone,” Scott informs.  
  
Stiles knows he doesn’t have the same connection of a pack bond as Scott has with a beta - or that of a first love - but he still feels it deep in his gut. Even if he were never aware of it, he’d had his magic tied to every member of the pack and their kin. And Chris and Isaac were that, and more.  
  
Guilt makes his brow furrow and his fingers clench. Suddenly he’s not that hungry anymore, even though eating is favorable to getting his strength back. He swallows again, resisting the urge to go back up to Derek’s bed, curl into a ball and sink into the abyss of failure waiting to swallow him whole.  
  
“Don’t,” Derek’s voice is gentle and steady, and Stiles meets his gaze from across the table. “Don’t do that to yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”  
  
Stiles wants to blurt out the irrational apology that’s trying to crawl its way out of his throat. Doesn’t know how to articulate how this feels. What good is it to have the power of the universe if you aren’t able to save everyone?  
  
“Guilt isn’t always a rational thing*,” Stiles replies out loud. The bright green of Derek’s eyes comforts him a little through the turmoil of his thoughts, but Stiles keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t elaborate.

Because there are things non-mages just don’t need to know.  
  
-

It’s later in the day and they’re sitting on the couch in the living room with his legs in Derek’s lap because - _I don’t care what you say, you need more rest -_ Derek insisted. Stiles is just getting into The Avengers when Derek looks away from the movie and focuses on something outside the window.

Stiles hadn’t needed to call her, he knows she’s been getting his flashes all morning and he knows she’s feeling him loud and clear.  
  
-x-  
  
It’s only the second time in so many days that he smells this particular scent of rich honey but he feels like it’s familiar already. Derek thinks that it may have something to do with the fact that it mixes so well with Stiles’ stormy cinnamon and he doesn’t quite know how he feels about that.  
  
“Expecting someone?” he queries quietly, hand rubbing one of Stiles’ calves under the material of his borrowed sweatpants.  
  
Stiles looks away from the movie, looking confused for a second before his expression clears up.  
  
“Kinda,” he replies.  
  
Since Scott had delivered the news that morning, Stiles had been quiet and pensive and Derek knew that despite everyone telling him that it wasn’t his fault, the guilt had settled in nice and deep. He’d decided to leave it alone, leave it for Stiles to process and digest, because Derek’s no stranger to feelings of irrational guilt. Knew that everyone had their own way of dealing.  
  
“Listen,” Stiles starts, pulling his legs off of Derek’s lap and moving into a sitting position. “I have to go do something, okay? But I don’t want you to worry because it’s not dangerous. But you can’t come with me.”  
  
Derek doesn’t need to reply to know that Stiles feels his disagreement loud and clear.  
  
Stiles’ gaze focuses on something outside the window and Derek can smell Malia right there on his porch, rich honey now mixed with something deeper, _earthier._  
  
“She’s not gonna come in right now because she’s already got the spell going for me, but I’m done hiding things. And there’s still a lot you don’t know, but there’s one thing – out of all of them – that I really want to tell you. And that’s that, even when I go right now, with Malia, and you stay – you’re still gonna be my anchor, okay? It’s been done and it’s not gonna change. That even when I’m out there, so far into the ether that I can’t remember anything else? I will still return to you.”

-x-  
  
Stiles takes Derek’s hand in his and continues.  
  
“It’s a magic thing, I guess. That night was the strongest peak of my spark and you were the one who pulled me back. Magic doesn’t just let that kind of anchor drift away, you know? It connects.”  
  
He’s known that making Derek let him go to do this spell would be difficult. Knew that the werewolf would likely not want to let Stiles out of his sight, much less his grasp for the next… _ever._ But if there’s one thing Stiles believed in, it’s immediate rehabilitation after a particularly traumatising event. And if he didn’t convince Derek to stay at the house while he went and did _magicky_ things sooner rather than later, then later it would just be a bigger problem.  
  
And so, he uses his words to the best of his ability.  
  
“You’re the one who grounds me, Der, it doesn’t matter how far away we are from each other. My magic grasped you as soon as it heard your voice out there. And it will hold you for as long as you’ll have me. So right now, I want you to know that it’s okay to let me go. I don’t want you to feel worried or afraid because I’ll come right back.”

Their fingers are intertwined between them now and Stiles makes sure to have all of his heart - from all of the years - in his eyes.

And when Derek flashes him one of his rare, coveted smiles, Stiles knows that Derek can see it all.  
  
“There is no fear in love*,” Derek murmurs to him, giving his hand a slight squeeze. And Stiles feels a warmth spread through his heart that has nothing to do with his spark, because Derek said _love._  
  
“Go,” Derek orders with an affectionate tone. “I’ll be right here.”

  
-x-  
  
When he steps outside, Malia’s waiting for him, body surrounded with a tinge of sky blue. She’s holding her mother’s necklace in one hand, the other stretched out for him, waiting.  
  
“Just this once,” she murmurs.  
  
Stiles steps forward and takes her hand, and the jump hardly disorients him as they land in the clearing where Allison died. Malia releases his hand and offers him an encouraging nod. He’s not up to his full strength yet but this is important.

Instinctively, he draws from his spark and traces the relevant patterns into the ground. He draws the final circle around him and Malia, and as he closes it, the symbol ignites into a light, orange glow. The wind picks up a little and he feels her before he sees her. Her presence materialises by his right shoulder, and he doesn’t turn straight away because she brushes a soft kiss against his cheek.  
  
Like the last time.  
  
_Glad you’re okay, Stiles._  
  
The moment echoes in his brain. Allison planting a soft kiss on his cheek as he sits in Derek’s kitchen surrounded by pack.

His heart is heavy when he turns to face her ethereal form. But when he finally lays eyes on her, he can’t help but release a deep, breathless sigh. She looks different from the last he’d seen her. Younger. Her hair is long and flowing like when they’d first met, and there’s a small, calm smile on her face.

She looks happy.  
  
They say that after death your spirit goes back to the time of your life when it first felt the happiest. And as Stiles meets Allison’s gaze, her words upon her dying breath echo through his mind.  
  
_“It’s okay, it's okay, it's perfect. I'm in the arms of my first love. The first person I ever loved. The person I'll always love...”_  
  
Allison’s spirit doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t _need_ to say anything as she continues to speak to Stiles with her wide, expressive eyes.

_I’m okay._  
  
Her smile widens further as she reaches out a ghostly arm. Makes to touch the tear that escapes the corner of Stiles’ eye as he feels his chest lighten with the absolution of his guilt. He smiles at her through his tears. Feels the change in the air as Allison begins to fade from view.

Her spirit dissolves into the brightness of the Light and as it fades away, a white lily takes its place. He watches as it floats gently in mid air before drifting slowly to the ground.

Stiles senses Malia moving around him, deactivating the symbols and closing the spell. As she finally breaks the circle, amulet still in hand and aura still glowing blue, Stiles bends down and picks up the lily.  
  
“She looked different,” Malia murmurs observantly.  
  
Stiles smiles a little sadly, meets Malia’s gaze from a few paces away.

“It was the time of her first love,” he explains, knowing he didn’t need to say much more. Malia nods in understanding, turns to face him and holds out her hand.

“What is it that I always say?” she coaxes softly.  
  
Stiles steps forward and slips his hand into hers as he murmurs dutifully.  
  
“It’s gonna be okay.”  
  
And he hardly feels the jump at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about some phrases I used in this chapter: 
> 
> “Guilt isn’t always a rational thing.” – Marueen Johnson, Girl at Sea
> 
> “There is no fear in love” – 1 John 4:18. 
> 
> Yes, I know it's a bible verse, but hey, Derek is very well read, okay?! =) If anyone's interested the whole thing goes like this:
> 
> “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this! Next chapter is the epilogue! Thank you everyone for your continued support!


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of sad this is ending! I feel like I should mention that this story hasn't been beta'd at all except for my own proofing skills so if there are any loopholes or whatever, they're all on me! And also, I don't own teen wolf and I miss Sterek so much!! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been here since the beginning, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. And to those who've left reviews, kudos, bookmarked, etc, you are all beautiful, beautiful people!!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of the ending okay? I appreciate any and all feedback. xoxx

Life goes on.  
  
Stiles goes back to college because classes don’t stop, even after something so life-altering.  
  
And he finds that his magic is so much easier to control when he’s not fighting it all the time.

Which means practicing sigil jumps.

_Lots_ of sigil jumps. Mostly to Derek’s house. Sometimes to wherever Scott is, but mostly to where Derek is.  
  
You’d think that after months of appearing out of thin air, his boyfriend (yes, boyfriend!), would be used to it by now, but Derek still pins him with some piercing sapphire blues as he materialises in the living room, just missing an armchair by inches.  
  
Stiles wobbles before regaining his balance.  
  
“Damn, I forgot this was here,” he exclaims by way of greeting.  
  
Derek smirks at him from the kitchen, eyebrows arched in amusement.  
  
“How was class?”  
  
Stiles offers him a small grin. “Which one? Magic lesson with Malia or _Alchemy 101_ with Professor Daffodil?”  
  
One of Derek’s eyebrows arch even more. “Your professor’s name is Daffodil?”  
  
“Birthday’s in Spring, parents were probably the first ever hippies of the world, likes to teach with songs about chemical substances. His class isn’t too bad,” Stiles reflects.  
  
Derek makes his way to Stiles and places large, warm hands on Stiles’ waist when he gets close enough. “So let me get this straight, you’ve got a hippie professor teaching you the basics of early modern science?”  
  
Stiles lifts his arms and drops them onto Derek’s shoulders, content to just be held as he replies. “Twenty-first century, dude, anything goes.”  
  
Derek looks pensive for a second. “Hm, I can’t decide on whether I regret missing college.”  
  
Stiles smirks. “College with me,” he corrects playfully, “missing college _with me.”_  
  
Derek smiles into Stiles’ waiting mouth and their lips finally meet with their hello kiss.  
  
_“Ughhh, please don’t start, dudes, we just got here.”_  
  
Stiles huffs a laugh into Derek’s mouth before reluctantly pulling away and burying his head into the crook of Derek’s neck just as Scott and Kira come through the door carrying six boxes of pizza.

“Yeah, pack night is not DerekandStiles night,” Malia adds, as she walks through the door behind Kira with three bags of potato chips in her grasp and her bag slung over her shoulder.  
  
“Clothes in the car, Cinnamon,” Malia throws at Stiles, messing his hair with a free hand as she passes them on her way to the kitchen.  
  
Stiles feels Derek’s amusement with her use of the nickname.  
  
-x-

_“I smell like what now?” Malia questions. They’re on campus, lounging on the grass under the shade of a giant tree as Stiles looks up at her from his lazy sprawl on the ground._

_“The wolves,” he elaborates. “They say you smell like honey. They couldn’t figure it out for the longest time because they didn’t know about you, but apparently it goes great with my ‘cinnamon’.”_

_Her face transforms into amusement. “You smell like_ cinnamon?! _” she exclaims with a laugh. “Dude, that is such a girly smell, I can’t believe you smell like cinnamon. Do you wear perfume? Tell me your secrets.”_

_Stiles plucks a clump of grass from beside him and throws it at her. “Idiot, it’s not like that! You can’t exactly talk, Miss ‘Honey’!” he retaliates._

_“Oh, no no no, I’m a girl, it’s totally fine for me to smell like honey. But_ you’re _cinnamon!” Malia laughs again, whole body now shaking with mirth._

_“Hey! I’ll have you know that cinnamon is a perfectly masculine scent to have, thank you very much!”_

_Malia is still laughing at him as she shifts around to lie on her back. Now both of them are staring up at the leaves of the tree, her head resting beside his and their shoulders aligned but not quite touching._

_“Honey and cinnamon,” she voices out loud, tone thoughtful. “They’re…great together.”_

_Stiles smiles at the leaves above him. “Like milk and cookies.”_

_“And salt and pepper,” she adds._

_They lie there for a while longer until Malia lets out another amused giggle. “I’m never not calling you Cinnamon ever again, though!”_

_“Dammit!”_

-x-

Stiles reluctantly disengages himself from Derek’s arms and trails Malia into the kitchen as she rips open a bag of Doritos and dumps its contents into a waiting bowl.

“Okay, what’s it gonna be?” Derek asks from where he’s now standing beside the TV, cord connected to Stiles’ laptop in his hand.

The front door opens and closes again.  
  
“I am not watching 300 again,” Lydia chimes in as she makes her way into Derek’s living room.  
  
“That wasn’t me that time, that was Danny and Ethan,” Scott protests.  
  
Stiles perks up at this and struggles to look nonchalant as he asks, “oh, you’ve heard from them?”  
  
Scott sends him a sympathetic look like _yeah, I know what you’re feeling, dude._ “They’re on the way to New York, think they’re gonna hang there for a while. See what it’s like and all.”

“Oh,” Stiles lowers his gaze as he slips another Dorito into his mouth. He tries not to look disappointed, knows that even if the girls don’t notice it, Derek and Scott have already picked up on his changing mood.

“Hey, actually, I vote Hangover 3,” Scott continues, having improved his conversation redirecting skills in the past few months. “Reason being, Derek doesn’t watch movies and hasn’t seen _anything._ ”

“Not denying it,” Derek mumbles from his position behind the TV.

Stiles releases a slow sigh as he takes the bowl of Doritos from Malia’s offering hand and drops into the corner of the couch.

“You’ll love it, Der. It gives a completely new meaning to the term ‘Wolf Pack’,” he explains through his mouthful of Doritos.

Scott drops to the floor beside him and pulls two pizza slices out of one of the boxes balanced on the coffee table. His best friend turns at the waist to pass a slice to Kira seated cross legged in the armchair behind him just as Lydia leans forward from her spot in the other armchair and picks a slice of her own.

“No spoilers please,” Malia interrupts them, as she drops down in front of the coffee table armed with her own throw rug. “I haven’t seen it either.”

Stiles tracks Derek’s movements as he picks his way through the now crowded living room. Derek pauses by the pizzas and takes two slices from the pepperoni box before taking the open spot beside Stiles. He accepts the slice Derek offers him and lets their shoulders touch for a minute before leaning back against the cushions.

He thinks that maybe this is a pretty good time to be okay. Surrounded by the people most important to him with no threatening events or creatures in the horizon. It’s definitely not the same as before and sometimes there’s still that small piece of guilt in the back of his mind about it.

He’s aware of it.

Feels it nestled between the dark essence of the Nemeton and the remnants of the Nogitsune.

Derek takes a hold of his hand and Stiles’ eyes are drawn to their intertwined fingers, thoughts wandering away from that corner of his mind. His spark lights their hands up in his eyes and there’s a white glow surrounding them that he knows is invisible to everyone else. And he feels the anchor deep in his bones, deep in his heart. Knows that Derek has no idea how much of a grip his psyche actually has on Stiles.

There’s a quick flash in his mind, the feeling of a gentle finger stroking down the side of his neck, and he looks up from his and Derek’s intertwined fingers and straight into Malia’s slightly concerned gaze. She raises an eyebrow at him.

He lets his magic seep out of him gently as he feels its need to soothe his sister witch’s concern for him. Lets it wash over her and cradle her in its ephemeral arms, almost with a mind of its own. But he knows he’s got it under control. Even if his fight against the darkness is constant, Stiles knows that the base of his magic now belongs to the Light. His anchor makes it so. The deepest of his own instincts make it so.

And if sometimes his head just spins and spins from the thought of how much access he has to both the Light and the Dark, or of how big the universe actually is and how much power it could give him? He reminds himself that he’s okay. And all he has to do is look for those green, green eyes. Feel the grip on his hand and remember the people around him, remember who he is. And he practices and practices reeling his spark back into himself and sending his magic into the earth under his feet. Imagines it growing thick, strong roots. Grounding him and keeping him from floating away. And it’s okay that each day he can manage to fly further and further away without looking back. Because the further he can go, the stronger he can be. And the better he can protect them all.

Because that’s what he needs to be able to do.

He needs to be able to protect them all.

-x-

_It’s mid-afternoon on a Tuesday and he still needs practice but Derek thinks he’s starting to get the hang of discerning Stiles’ sigil jumping patterns. Which is why he’s a little surprised when he smells the kid materialise onto the property but refrain from entering his house._

_His brow furrows with curiosity more than anything else, and Derek gives it a few minutes to settle before deciding to investigate._

_He’s casually strolling through the trees, content to just follow Stiles’ scent without urgency until finally he makes out a lone figure sitting in the grass, arms draped over bent knees. As Derek gets closer, he notices the almost invisible trail of magic, silver lines weaving seamlessly from Stiles’ fingers and seeping into the earth._

_Derek pauses, not sure on whether to continue or retreat. Stiles’ abilities progressed rapidly and it was more often than not that he saw the kid attempting something new. Derek pushes away the frustration of knowing that he hasn’t had enough experience with mages and magic to know what to do in these types of situations. Acknowledges that all this is new to everyone._

_“It’s okay,” Stiles’ voice drifts to him calmly as his magic continues to flow into the ground. “I was just feeling a little out of it before I came here. I needed a minute,” he adds._

_Derek squashes the mild alarm that courses through him. Stiles is still learning and he reminds himself that things like this will happen as he swallows down the lump in his throat and reassumes moving forward._

_And when Derek gets near enough, he drops down behind Stiles, moving until his legs are on either side of him and his chest is against Stiles’ back. Gently, he tucks his chin against Stiles’ shoulder and rests his own arms on his bent knees, telling Stiles with his body to take however long he needs._

_Stiles inhales slowly, releases a calm breath and leans back until he’s tucked snuggly against Derek’s chest._

_“Thank you,” he murmurs, relief thick in his voice._

_Derek responds by planting a soft kiss against the side of Stiles’ neck._

 -x-

Derek notices the twitch in Stiles’ fingers, senses the tension in his shoulders and the chaos in his thoughts. He knows that things are far from solved. That Stiles has a long way to go with his magic and finding his own way, and if there’s anything Derek has extensive experience with, it’s being tortured by nobody but your own damn self.

So he doesn’t push.

Instead, he leans forward and takes two more slices of pepperoni pizza easily passing one to Stiles. The movie begins and Derek casually lifts an arm, loops it around Stiles’ shoulders making sure to keep his oily fingers away from any clothing, and squeezes Stiles to him playfully.

The far away look snaps out of Stiles’ gaze and the kid manages a small, enamored grin.

“Let’s see what all the fuss is about, huh?” he murmurs softly into Stiles’ ear as he nestles Stiles deeper into his side and turns his attention to the movie.

And if he buries his nose into Stiles’ hair for a second and takes a slow, deep inhale of that rich, spicy cinnamon, nobody would ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I apologise for all mistakes, I’m very rusty and I haven’t churned out a fic this big in EVER. Not my first Sterek fic but first time posting on Ao3. I've been craving a lot of mage!stiles and can't seem to get my fill so I decided to write my own. Hope you guys like it!


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